


The Witcher and the Demon

by AFishCalledMonty



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Feels, Demons, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hearts of Stone (The Witcher 3 DLC), Implied Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Parallel Universes, Romance, Slow Burn, The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 167,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23314564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFishCalledMonty/pseuds/AFishCalledMonty
Summary: When the witcher Lambert takes on an interesting contract involving a 'witch' and a leshen, he finds more than he bargained for in the form of a demon girl from another world. Unable to rid himself of her, they must put aside their differences and journey together. Along the way, they'll both learn what it is that really makes a monster. Rated Mature for strong language and violence.
Comments: 83
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

Part 1 – The new world

‘Go then, there are other worlds than these.’  
-Stephen King, The Gunslinger

Chapter 1

The world tipped on its axis. One minute she was stood in a typical back alley, like she so often found herself in, the sound of cars and the smell of fumes dominating her senses. The next she was falling backwards, the world disappearing around her as a familiar feeling of vertigo took hold of her. Her arms flailed around, attempting to find purchase on something to break her fall, but the graffiti strewn walls that had penned her in moments before were now gone and she found her fingers brushing against rough bark and snapping twigs.

She landed with a guttural huff and a loud thud as she connected with the damp, earthy smelling ground. The cars had been replaced by the haunting calls of night birds and the fumes were switched for bitingly cold air tinged with the recognisable smells of the forest. Rotting wood, animals and…what the hell was that?

Before she could focus on the unfamiliar scent the inevitable nausea that came from travelling through a gateway unexpectedly hit her like a sucker punch to the stomach. She just managed to twist her body in time before she retched, the viscous substance being ejected from her hitting the forest floor with a wet slapping sound. It looked like blood but it was a dark burgundy, too dark. Not the bright, vibrant crimson people usually associated with human blood. Spitting to get the foul taste out of her mouth, Ellie wiped the back of her hand across her face to clean it, then tried to get her bearings.

It was night. It was a forest. And for Purgatory’s sake why couldn’t she get that ringing out of her ears? It felt like a buzz saw going off inside her head. She shakily pushed herself to her feet and leant heavily on a nearby tree. So, what the fuck had happened? She looked around, her eyes adjusting to the gloom now that the aftershocks of her impromptu crossing had dimmed slightly. She hadn’t summoned a door, or at least she didn’t think she had, so why had she fallen through a sodding gateway? What was even worse was now that she was looking she couldn’t see the damn thing anywhere. Had it vanished? She had only been on her arse for five minutes, they didn’t usually disappear that quickly.

Ellie slapped a hand to her forehead as the ringing got worse. Scrunching up her eyes she tried to shut off her senses one by one in an attempt to dispelled the horrendous noise. It did nothing. If anything, the ringing was getting louder. Opening her eyes Ellie decided she needed to get her bearings. She had no idea where or when this surprise gateway had chucked her. In fact, although she was familiar with a lot of forests this one just felt…off. Like there was something not quite right about it.

Sniffing the air, she tried to get some more clues as to her whereabouts, and- there it was again. What was that weird smell? It was like sticking her face in an open grave. The stench of decay and blood was strong, but there was something else underneath. It kind of smelt like a Shedu; a mix of herd animal and an other-worldly force, but her hair wasn’t standing on end to signal the presence of another demon nearby. On top of the foul smell filling her nose, the ringing in her ears was worsening with every second. The overload of her senses was getting too much, and in frustration, her lip pulled back over her teeth and she let out a feral snarl.

Something shifted in the darkness. Her eyes reflexively snapped to it, and her body tensed. The something moved again, detaching itself from the shadows. Something very tall and very thin. The ringing was now at head splitting levels and the stench of death and blood intensified. It was coming from whatever that thing was, but Ellie had never smelt of seen anything like it before. It took a slow step forward and she could finally make out some details.

It was at least seven feet tall and looked like a walking tree, except for the bone white deer skull which seemed to be acting as its head. A pair of impressive antlers sprang out of it and what looked like black smoke billowed around it. Darker, even, than the surrounding forest, if that was even possible. The creature let out a piercing howl as it took another step towards her.

Ellie was unsure how to proceed. Was it some freaky hybrid she’d not come across before? Whatever it was, it was making that godawful ringing worse and appeared to be advancing on her rapidly. Automatically she reached for her daggers, but her hand landed on an empty space at her back where they once were.

‘Shit.’

She let out a low curse as the tree/deer hybrid lumbered towards her. Guess I’m going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. She thought, lowering into a crouch.

‘I don’t want to fight you buddy. Can’t we talk this out?’ She croaked, hoping there was some kind of sentient brain in that weird deer skull of a head. The creature let out a roar, its long arms reaching out to reveal ugly looking claws. Her options exhausted, Ellie began to strip away the bindings inside her and felt the heady rush of adrenaline flow to her limbs. She didn’t like fighting without weapons but needs must. Her lip pulled back from her teeth again, showing her now more pronounced canines as this time she let out a loud, warning growl. The creature stumbled to a halt. Its blank eye sockets staring at the thing coiled in front of it, humming with dark energy. It seemed to think better of engaging with her, and instead gave another bleak roar. Turning with surprising grace for a creature of its size, it dissolved into the shadows leaving her alone.

Ellie let out a shaky breath and slowly stood up. Grateful she hadn’t had to try and attack that thing with her bare hands, she quickly got a handle on her emotions. Calming the storm she had summoned inside of her with deep, jagged breaths. Gradually she felt her control return and the adrenaline wear off. However, without the stimulation of an impending fight to the death, the nausea and weakness in her limbs returned with a vengeance. The ringing, mercifully, had lessened but was still there, buzzing in the back of her mind like an angry hornet trapped in a glass.

Without the rotting smell filling her nose she could now scent something resembling a fire. Maybe there was a camp site nearby with someone to give her a clue to where she was. She turned and used the trees to steady herself as she followed her nose. She wasn’t sure if it was the after effects of the gateway, or the constant assault on her head that dulled her senses but rounding the next tree she came upon a large, dark mass of something blocking her way.

Shaken from the strange encounter before Ellie foolishly acted on instinct. Moving as fast as her weakened body would allow she leapt back in surprise letting another growl rip from between clenched teeth. The dark mass separated and became a group of ten men, their eyes wide with fear as they took in the snarling girl moving away from with inhuman speed, her pupils flat black.

‘Oh.’ Ellie said, registering her error. It was this hesitation and confusion which resulted in the nearest man, holding a pitchfork, to lunge towards her and stab her through the chest before she could dodge.

‘Die witch.’ He shouted, to the loud cheers of the others as her vision went dark, the cold iron of the farm tool still lodged where her heart was.

* * *

Lambert was certain this backwater settlement hadn’t seen a witcher since the conjunction. As soon as he had ridden into the jumbled collection of straw roofed huts and foul-smelling animal pens every eye had been fixed on him. He was used to being leered at, by some of the braver louts usually, but everyone here was staring at him as though he were sprouting horns and riding a unicorn.

Fucking inbred cretins. He thought to himself as he manoeuvred his horse to the largest building in the place, the tavern. A creaking sign above the door proclaimed it to be ‘The Twelve Maidens’, but one glance around this dump told him his chance of finding any decent maidens here were slim to none.

The voice of his old teacher came unbidden to his mind. A witcher cares not for the pleasures of normal men, a witcher’s only interest is his work. Trust that old bastard to still be lecturing him when he was hundreds of miles away. With a disgruntled sigh he dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching post. ‘Be good.’ He said to the beast as he straightened his leather armour and made his way to the entrance.

It had been a long time on the road, and the thought of a good meal, a tankard of ale and a warm bed made even stopping here an inviting prospect. Opening the creaking wooden door, he was immediately hit by the smell of the place. The witcher didn’t like crowded spaces at the best of times, but when they smelt like this place it made a hundred times worse. It was obvious from the look of the place these people didn’t have much, and that more often than not in his experience meant their personal hygiene was somewhat lacking. Not that he smelt of roses and meadow grass but it was a damn sight better than this place.

Apparently, his little welcoming committee of gawkers outside were just a hand full of the populace as the rest of the village appeared to crammed into the tavern. Despite the number of people, the room turned deathly quiet as Lambert entered. He took a moment to scan the crowd, his eyes narrowing as he was met with their suspicious stares. A few averted their gaze, turning back to mugs of ale they were nursing or the gwent game they were playing. Others kept staring, their expressions caught somewhere between disgust and fear. Good, let them look, he thought, shouldering his swords as he stomped into the room. This wasn’t the first time he had felt unwelcome ,and it wouldn’t be the last.

Wearing his most arrogant smile he approached the rudimentary bar that was located on the far side of the tavern. There was a wrinkled old crone cleaning a chipped pewter tankard with an equally old and dirty rag. Lambert wrinkled his nose in disdain at the sight and the intense smell that was still permeating his senses. What was that? It smelt like death and shit rolled into one.

The crone gave him a wary look as he rested his gloved hands on the bar. ‘Can I ‘elp ye?’ She asked. Not unfriendly, although the half-turned stance she was adopting and her unsmiling expression wasn’t exactly warming.

‘This is a tavern isn’t it?’ He replied sardonically. His chin tilting up so he was looking down his nose at her. The crone frowned, her cleaning paused.

‘Yeah, course it is.’

Her patronising tone and the fuck awful smell that was starting to make his head hurt grated on his already frayed nerves. Not that his nerves didn’t ever seem to be frayed. Unlike his brothers from the school of the wolf, Lambert was not famous for his chivalry and manners. His quick temper and snarky comments however, well they were notorious to anyone who knew him. Although Dandelion, that simpering imbecile, had yet to right a ballad about how he had at least twenty different ways to call someone a shit brained idiot.

Now, he took a deep breath through his mouth, trying to avoid the stench, and leant on the bar. His sarcastic smile turning mean. ‘Then if you’d be so kind as to get me an ale before I die of old age.’

The crone blinked at him a few times, her watery eyes flashing with shock, fear and disbelief, before Lambert really lost his patience and slammed a fist down on the bar making her jump a foot in the air.

‘Right away Master witcher.’ She stammered. Ah, so they did know what a witcher was. Good, made his job a lot easier in the long run. Having to explain that shit was not something he was up to doing today. Content that his long-awaited ale was incoming, as the old crone flustered around behind the bar, he turned and leant back against it. Crossing his arms, he surveyed the room again. Most of the peasants had gone back to their revelry, although one or two were still throwing him furtive glances. He had seen this scene play out time and time again. A new village, a new barrage of insults, demands and hostility thrown his way. Occasionally there was coin to make the whole ordeal more bearable, but never that much, and judging by this place none at all if there were any jobs going. He sighed, hearing the mug of ale the ancient bartender had brought him being placed next to his elbow. Without looking he grabbed it and brought it to his mouth, taking a reluctant gulp.

Not bad. Although a lot sourer than he was used to. At least the shit was drinkable. Sliding a coin towards the crone, he slowly drank his fill, figuring out his next move. He’d see if this place had any contracts and spend a night in a real bed. Any number of bed bugs and frosty looks was better than a hard patch of cold earth on the side of the road any day. Then he’d keep heading north, and reach Kaer Morhen before the snows came. He had at least a month by his reckoning before the pass started to closed. No need to rush.  
Finishing his mug, he tossed it towards the still quivering bartender, signalling her for another. It was unusual no one had approached him to tell him to fuck off, or better yet go fuck himself. Where ever there were people, there was always someone who hated his kind. However, it seemed this place was proving a slight anomaly. True, there was still a particular leather faced, old gentleman in the corner that couldn’t seem to stop looking at him but apart from that everyone else was ignoring him. Lambert snorted as his next mug of ale reached him, maybe this place wasn’t as bad as it smelt.

It was as he was emptying his third that a loud conversation started up on the far side of the tavern. ‘I’m telling you Rika, we can’t fight the both of them. The forest is off limits until we can find some ‘elp.’

‘And what ‘bout till then? We got ‘ta eat somehow. If we can’t ‘unt then we’ll all starve.’

The Witcher’s attention was caught by the two men arguing. One of them stood up, his face red with anger. ‘I know we’re desperate, but forcing our ‘unters into that Gods forsaken forest is the last thing we should do.’

The other man, Rika he presumed, rose to his feet, his face equally red. ‘We can’t just let these monsters drive us out of our own forest. We’ve been ‘ere far longer than ‘em. I say we take every able-bodied man and attack ‘em tonight.’ There were a few half-hearted cheers of agreement from some of the younger patrons, but largely Rika’s call to arms went ignored. What had got all these peasants so scared? Lambert wondered, but the argument was unlikely to yield much more in the way of information as it had descended into an all-out brawl between the two men.

He probably should have broken it up and asked them all outright what was plaguing this forest of theirs. It was his job after all. But in truth, the tooth and nail fight, which was now spreading to the men seated nearby, was far more entertaining. The witcher smirked as Rika punched the man he had been arguing with full in the mouth, a few of his remaining teeth flying all over the place. What a bunch of goat fucking idiots.

Just as the tavern fight was getting interesting the old man that had been staring at Lambert rose to his feet and let out a surprisingly formidable bellow for his appearance. ‘That’s enough! All of you!’ The old timer must have been a leader of sorts because the whole tavern went as silent as when he had first entered. The brawlers were frozen in a humorous tableau. Rika holding another man by the front of his shirt, his fist raised. All eyes were now fixed on the old man.

‘If you’ve all had quite enough violence for one evening, I believe the answer to our problems is already here.’ His dialect was a lot more refined than Lambert had been expecting, he narrowed his eyes at the man wondering who he was exactly. A few of the peasants looked around dumbly, not aware of where their leader was going with this. Some of the other brighter tacks had already swivelled their heads to look at the witcher, still leant casually against the bar, his arms crossed.

The old man turned his own attention back to Lambert, a grim smile on his weathered face. ‘Master witcher, what would be your opinion on our little plight?’

He pushed off from the bar and gave the assembled crowd an appraising look. A few hushed murmurs flew around the room.

‘A witcher?’

‘Never seen one before.’

‘Look at those eyes. What a freak.’

He resolutely ignored them, he had got a lot of practice doing that over the years. ‘Hard to say until I hear all the facts.’ He said in a haughty voice. ‘The real question I have for you all is can you afford me?’

The old man’s eyes narrowed slightly. Obviously, his answer hadn’t been to his liking. Well, fuck him, Lambert thought, it wasn’t like I was going to do this for free.

‘Have no fear, we will have coin enough for the task. As long as you deliver that is.’

The witcher snorted, ‘Course I will. Just need to know what I’m up against first.’ He nodded towards Rika. ‘You. Have you seen these monsters at all? In the flesh I mean.’  
Rika gave him a long look, then slowly put down the man he was holding and folded his arms. ‘Aye, I saw them. One of them real good like. You see we killed the witch. Frenrick got her with his pitchfork, but the other is a slippery woodland spirit. Only get glimpses of that one.’

Lambert raised an eyebrow at the peasant’s boastful display. ‘You killed one? Well, what’s the problem here? You seem more than able to handle yourselves.’ Rika clenched his jaw, rankled by his tone.

‘We killed the bitch, aye. But here’s the fucking rub mutant. She got back up. One minute she was dead as a stone, the next she was coughing and pulling out Frenrick’s fork as if it were a wood splinter.’ There were a few mumbles of ascent at Rika’s account, and Lambert noted a number of the men’s faces turning white at the memory. ‘Never seen nothing like it before. Before we could ‘ave another go at the witch that other fucking monstrosity appeared and took out ‘alf our men.’ His face clouded over with a grief and rage that the witcher was more than used to seeing. ‘We buried them today, that’s what we were drinking to.’

Lambert eyed the filthy peasants again; covered in dirt, grave dirt. So that would explain the stench. He looked back at Rika, his expression serious.  
‘So, the other monster, you think it’s working with the witch?’

‘Aye, sure seemed to rush to her rescue when we were going to stick her again.’

Lambert scratched at his beard in thought. ‘And when the other monster, wha’dya call it? A woodland spirit? When it attacked, did you get a better look at it?’ Normally he had no time for the detective work that came with witchering. Find out where it was hiding, bomb the shit out of it, that was his go to strategy. But this job sounded kind of…interesting. Not his bog standard drowner and nekker culling at any rate.

Rika shook his head, ‘Nah, I was too distracted by my friends getting sliced up. Didn’t stop to do a sketch of the fucker.’

Lambert’s irritation rose. No respect these peasants. He was about to move on to the location of this ambush when another man stood up, his gaunt face waxy with fear. ‘M-master witcher, sir?’ He stammered. Lambert acknowledged him with a tilt of his head. ‘I saw the beast Rika’s talking about.’

‘Go on then.’ He said tersely. This man looked like he was about to turn to swamp sludge he was so scared.

‘It was tall, and thin. Thin as a rake. Looked like it had been made from the trees themselves.’ Very poetic, Lambert thought, not massively helpful though.  
‘Tall and thin, like a tree. Got it, anything else?’

‘A-aye, it was surrounded by this kind of smoke. Black it was, as pitch. Made it ‘ard to see it clearly, but its eyes. I saw them. They were black two, empty holes, like I were looking at a skull.’

Lambert straightened, his attention fully grabbed. Unless he was really rusty on his bestiary, that sounded awfully like a leshen. Not taken down one of those in a while. Might be a big reward for a nasty relict like that.

‘Thank you. That was most helpful.’ He said in the closest approximation of a friendly voice he could manage. The nervous wreck gave him an awkward smile, more like a grimace and sat down again. Turning his attention back to the old man he gave him a smug grin.

‘Think I know what your problem is.’ The leader gave him a questioning look and he could feel all eyes now back on him. ‘The big fella, that’s a leshen. Nasty piece of work. That alone is going to be a dangerous job for me, but with this witch you’ve mentioned.’ He sucked in between his teeth. ‘Well, that’s an unknown to me. Not heard of leshens helping others, usually it gets them to do its bidding.’

‘What are you saying Master witcher?’ The leader gave him a distrustful stare.

Lambert took a few steps towards him, the people nearest him drew back in fear as he approached them. Good, fear led to better pay.

‘What I’m saying, is that you’d better have a decent reward for this contract. A leshen is one thing, but a leshen and a witch. Well, this will be a challenge.’ He flashed them a nasty grin. His amber eyes glinting in the torch light. He was making out like this was a chore, but deep-down Lambert was actually a little excited by all this.

The village leader gave him one last disdainful look before nodding. ‘Fine. We will make a collection. However…’ He held up one finger, his tone hard as iron. ‘We want both monster’s heads. If you don’t deliver on that you shan’t get a coin.’

Lambert cocked his head to one side, sizing up the leader. The leshen was doable of course, but this witch. What had they said? She had risen from the dead. Well, he was low on coin and had wanted to earn some while here. This contract had practically fallen into his lap, he wasn’t about to turn it down. ‘Fine. You’ve got a deal old man.’

The leader smiled. A rueful smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘You have our thanks witcher. Good luck in your hunt.’

With that the old man sat back down and resumed his drinking. One by one, the other peasants did the same until the tavern had returned to normal. Lambert scratched his beard thoughtfully again. He would need to prepare some dimeritium bombs and relict oil for the leshen, and as for the witch. Well, he wasn’t entirely sure he knew how to handle her, but he’d wing it. He had dealt with his fair share of sorceresses after all. He turned back to face the crone of a bartender. She jumped a little as he fixed his cat like eyes on her.

‘Another ale then darling, and a room if you have one. Need my beauty sleep if I’m going to be killing monsters tomorrow.’


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Dying felt like shit. But what felt worse was coming back. 

The first time it had happened Ellie had been floored for a month. Her whole body had felt like it had been passed through a mincer, and even though there were no visible scars to show what had happened, it had taken another month before her skin had stopped itching. Added to that her reflexes and abilities were always diminished after reviving and it made for a pretty crappy experience. This time had been one of the worst ones for a while. Her rocky arrival into this world had already took it out of her, having a pitchfork shoved through her chest had only heightened her enjoyment of the whole situation so far. 

She had woken, as she normally did, with a retching gasp. Her head splitting in two and the feeling of a thousand needles piercing her body. She had sat up, coughing loudly, then paused as something lodged in her chest stopped her. Fumbling around she had gripped cold metal. Looking down at her hands she had seen the pitch fork she had been stabbed with still stuck into her chest up to the handle. 

With a sickening wet, squelching sound she slowly pulled it out, freeing her chest and allowing her to cough the contents of her stomach up for the second time that night. With the prongs now loose she tossed the pitchfork to one side and tried to get her bearings, yet again. She had become acutely aware that there were other presences near her. Their scents hot with blood and tinged with fear. Glancing up she saw the group of men she had run into standing around her, their faces frozen in horror.

‘Im-impossible.’ One stammered as she wobbled to her feet. The wounds were already closing up in her chest and she rolled her shoulders experimentally as she tried to look as harmless as possible. 

‘Sorry about that. Is there any way you could tell me where I am?’ Ten faces stared back at her, their mouths opening and closing like stranded fish. A particularly mean looking one choose to answer by unsheathing a long sword at his side and charging at her with a cry. ‘Fucking witch!’ 

_Not again,_ Ellie thought as she held her hands up in submission. But the frightened men were unlikely to listen after they had witnessed her coming back from the dead before their eyes. 

‘Shit.’ She cursed under her breath for the second time and prepared to flee. Just as the man with the sword got to her there was an almighty roar and the space where they were all clustered was suddenly filled with cloying black cloud of smoke. The men fell back in fear as something tall and thin inserted itself between them and her. It roared again and Ellie swore she heard wolves howling in the distance as if answering it. Seeing the men’s attention switch to the new threat she decided this was her chance to get away from this madness. Turning on her heels she had dashed into the forest, unsure of where she was going and if that deer thing was following her. Eventually her limbs had screamed for her to stop and she had collapsed against a large oak tree.

That had been a few days ago. She wasn’t sure how long exactly. Time keeping became hard when you didn’t have to eat or sleep. Her energy was coming back to her in bits but she was nowhere near full strength. A couple of times she had tried to open another door, using a sharp piece of stone she had found to cut her hand. The blood mark had glowed briefly on the trunk of the tree, but it flickered and went dim almost instantly. After the third attempt she had resolved to stay put and try and get her strength back.

Unfortunately for her, the humans hadn’t re-entered the forest since that first night so she had no way finding out where in all fuckery she actually was. Judging by what they had been wearing and the fact one guy had a long sword it wasn’t modern times. So what, she had travelled back to medieval Britain? They had what resembled west country accents but there had been a strange lilt to them that seemed alien. Coupled with the fact that Mr Deer Head existed too meant she wasn’t sure she was in her home world anymore.

Mr Deer Head, as she had taken to calling him, didn’t say much. In fact, he didn’t speak at all, just kind of, rumbled and moaned occasionally. He had reappeared near her as she had been throwing up for the umpteenth time that night and had stayed watching her from a distance for some time. At first, she had found it extremely disconcerting and had done her best to ignore him, but when he made no move to attack her she had relaxed in his presence slightly. 

Over the next few days he had gotten closer to her. Not always staying with her, sometimes he went off and did whatever it was he did in the forest. In the light of day, she had noticed that the clouds of smoke billowing around him were also joined by birds when he appeared and vanished. Big black crows it looked like. Despite his terrifying appearance she found him oddly fascinating. She had never seen anything like him and by the way he watched and followed her around, nor had he. 

One day she was wandering around the forest, smelling the air trying to locate any sign of civilisation when she had stumbled upon a strange structure made of branches and what looked like animal bones. It looked like something straight out of a horror film. A warning or marker of some kind. She was wondering idly as she ran a finger over it, if the humans had put it here to ward off Mr Deer Head when he suddenly popped into existence next to her. Giving a small yelp, she took a hasty step back. It was the closest he had got to her since the he had helped her escape. His empty eyes stared down at her.

It was hard to tell, seeing as skulls weren’t exactly expressive, but she had the sense he was looking at her quizzically. Up close she could see his body was covered in bark, moss and lichen, scales of fungi sprouted from his arms and torso. He was wearing a hood and loin cloth made of a dark brown leather. Letting out a low, rumbling moan, he continued to watch her. 

Ellie cleared her throat and pointed at the wooden structure, ‘Is this yours?’

Mr Deer Head turned his bleached skull towards it, then slowly nodded. She smiled up at him. The first genuine smile since she had landed, arse first, here.

‘It’s nice.’ She offered up lamely. He turned his empty eyes back to her, and again with no expression it was hard to tell but Ellie was certain he was smiling. Having a one-sided conversation with a tree with a skull for a head wasn’t the weirdest thing she had ever done, but it was up there. She stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure how to proceed. There was still a chance he could attack her on a whim, and with her depleted state and how close he was she was sure he would get a good swipe at her before she could get away. But there was something about the way he was stood neutrally watching her, silent except for the creaking of his limbs, that made her think he wasn’t going to harm her. 

‘Listen.’ She started, sure this wasn’t going to get her far. ‘I’m a little lost. You wouldn’t happen to know how to get out of this forest would you? It’s just…’. She paused to gesture at her nose. ‘This place smells weird and it’s kind of hard for me to get my bearings.’

She held up her hands, her tone flustered. ‘Not that it’s a bad smell, not that you smell either. It’s very nice…for a forest. Only I can’t tell where anything is because of it.’ 

Mr Deer Head gave her another enigmatic stare. Ellie shifted uncomfortably, he hadn’t understood had he. 

Finally, he lifted a long, clawed hand. She watched it expectantly, hoping he was about to point the way. Instead, in a thoroughly surreal moment, he rested his giant hand on her head. Just for a second. Before he lifted and turned to go. Ellie placed her own hand where he had touched her, watching with confusion as he disappeared into the shadows as he was apt to do. 

‘Ooookay.’ She said. Rubbing the spot thoughtfully. Had he just…patted her on the head? 

‘Thanks anyway.’ She called after him as an afterthought. Then she had resumed her fruitless search for the edge of this endless expanse of trees. 

The next time she saw him it was night. She had been sat with her legs tucked to her chin, her back against the old oak she had now made her temporary base, listening to the sounds of the forest. Everyday a little of her strength returned, although she still couldn’t summon a fucking door, but her understanding of where she was grew as she observed it. 

A pack of wolves were howling off to the east. They tended to hunt that time of night and she could already hear the sounds of pursuit as they chased down one of the forest’s many deer. So far, she had established this world had things she recognised; like wolves and deer and other woodland animals. But it also had stuff she was in no way acquainted with. The main culprit being Mr Deer Head, but there was also gross spider crab insect and small, ugly goblin looking thing. Both these creatures she had seen from a distance and she had kept it that way. The last thing her recovery body needed was a run in with a hybrid she had no idea how to fight. 

The wolves’ howls grew fainter as they followed their quarry. Resting her chin on her knees Ellie wished she had someone to talk to. Before coming here, she had wanted nothing more than to be left alone, being constantly surrounded by her subordinates. Careful what you wish for. A familiar smell hit her nose right before, in his usual cloud of smoke and black birds, Mr Deer Head appeared. 

‘Evening.’ She said, bowing her head and tipping an imaginary hat in greeting. Solomon, her old teacher, would be pleased with her manners. He stared at her for a second, then to her disbelief inclined his skull head in a similar greeting. She flashed him a wide grin in return, her mood instantly lifting. Purgatory, how desperate was she for company that she was happy to see him? Although, she had grown quite fond of his company. He hadn’t attempted to hurt her since that first night she had growled at him. In his defence, she had just appeared in the middle of his home unannounced.

‘Nice night isn’t it.’ She said conversationally. Mr Deer Head walked slowly towards her and Ellie noticed with interest that where his feet touched the ground, small roots sprouted. Pushing up through the earth towards him. ‘Do you look after the forest?’ She asked, pointing at his feet. 

He stopped, looking down with exaggerated slowness to where she was indicating. With creaking limbs, he lifted the foot she was pointing at, tilting his ridiculously long body to look at the sole. The sight was so comical Ellie couldn’t stop the loud snort of laughter coming from her. 

‘No, there’s nothing on your foot stupid. I saw the roots growing. Do you make them grow?’ To highlight her point, she leant forward and touched one of them gently. Mr Deer Head straightened, then with the sound of a cracking branches he lowered into a crouch, so his head was only hovering a foot above her own. 

‘Oh hey, that’s better. Was afraid I was going to get a sprained neck looking up at you all the time.’ In answer he unfurled a clawed hand and pushed his index finger into the earth next to the root Ellie had been touching. With a rumbling sound the root shot into the air making her sit back abruptly. She watched as the root that had been barely an inch high before was now half the height of the ancient oak she had been leaning against. 

‘Holy…that was awesome.’ She exclaimed. Beaming up at him. ‘Wish I could do that.’ Looking down at her own hands Ellie tried to channel what little static energy there was in the air into her fingertips. After a lot of effort, she managed to make a small, blue spark jump from one hand to the other. It wasn’t her most impressive work but Mr Deer Head let out a low, guttural humming and lifted his head in the air unleashing a brief excited roar. 

‘You liked that? I can do more usually. But it’s harder when I’m not in my own world and I’m injured.’ She looked down sadly at her hands again, her eyes drifting to the brand seared onto the inside of her left wrist. A triangle surrounding two other triangles stacked on top of each other to resemble an hour glass. The emblem of the Gatekeepers. She really should try harder to get out of here. The others would be wondering where she was and who knew what problems were arsing without her there. 

Mr Deer Head let out another rumble moan and reached behind his back to get something. Pulled out of her worries, Ellie glanced down to see he was offering her something in one clawed hand. Frowning, she leant forward to get a better look. 

A scrap of dark brown fur lay across his palm. She wondered why he was giving this to her when she caught its scent. It was a rabbit. A very dead one, but a rabbit none the less. She looked up at her strange companion 

‘Is this for me?’ She asked. The deer skull bobbed up and down in response. Gently he pushed his hand towards her so his rough, barky fingers brushed against the exposed skin of her leg. He stared at her with those empty eyes of his as he waited for her to take his gift. Ellie didn’t have the heart to tell the creature that she didn’t need food. It was a kind gesture from something that she guessed probably didn’t receive a lot of kindness in return.

‘Thank you.’ She said finally. Taking the carcass from him, she smiled at him warmly. Then leaning forward, she placed a hand on the top of his skull head, right between his antlers. Mr Deer Head rumbled again. Straightening up as she withdrew her hand, he bowed once more then disappeared in a cloud of bird smoke. Ellie then busied herself for the rest of the night, lighting a fire so she could cook the gift that her new friend had so thoughtfully given her. 

* * *

Lambert examined the totem he had found about half a mile into the forest. Judging from what he had seen so far, this leshen didn’t appear to be that old, maybe a couple of hundred years. A young adult really. This meant it was highly likely this was its only totem tying it to the forest. 

Taking a moment to make sure his silver blade was coated in relict oil and his dimeritium bombs were on hand, Lambert braced himself before blasting the totem with a quick Aard. The sound of the sign reverberated off the trees, and the criss-crossed branches and bones exploded in spectacular fashion. A boyish grin stretched across the witcher’s face as he twirled his sword in his hand, his other already placed on the pouch where he kept his bombs. He hated a lot of things about his life as a witcher, but the one aspect that he had always been able to find peace with was the killing monsters part. It gave him a rush of adrenaline and purpose like nothing else ever had.

With a loud roar the leshen appeared in a burst of smoke and cawing birds. It might have been a young one but this specimen was a big motherfucker. Lambert had to take several steps back to get a safe distance away to throw his first dimeritium bomb. Hitting its mark, right at the leshen’s feet, the bomb ignited giving off a harsh white light. The witcher was well versed in the use of bombs, so had already averted his gaze to the blast, the leshen however had taken the full force of it. Rearing back its ugly skull head it let loose a howl of anger. Its wicked clawed hands extending out. A glowing green aura now surrounded the beast, hopefully disabling its magic abilities. In the distance Lambert could hear the cry of wolves as they came to their master’s rescue. 

His grin widened, and he sank into a fighting stance. ‘Let’s dance fucker.’ He said, launching himself forwards towards his quarry. He got in two good strikes to the leshen’s flanks before it recovered enough to throw a swipe at him. Dodging to the side, Lambert rearranged his footing so he could circle it and aim a strong downward slash to its back. 

The leshen let out another roar and plunged its hands into the ground. He smirked at the beast now raging at its ineffective attack and got in another well-placed upper cut, twirling his sword artfully at the end.

‘Yeah, sorry pal. Not going to work that. Going to have to fight me man to man.’ 

The leshen withdrew its hands, standing back to its full height and vanished in a cloud of smoke. ‘Running are we. That’s mighty big of you.’ Lambert goaded, turning on the spot to see where the monster would appear next. Before he could locate it a pack of five wolves burst through the undergrowth and leapt at him, snarling viciously. 

‘Oh, hey guys, you here for the party too?’ The witcher didn’t bother switching swords, dispatching the leshen’s minions in five quick manoeuvres. Just as the last let out a yelp as he severed its head from its body, the leshen reappeared directly behind him. He was just able to dodge to the side to avoid the worst of the attack but one of its sharp claws sliced his right arm. 

‘Ah, fuck it all.’ He cursed, backing away and quickly downing a vial of swallow. Before he could go on the offensive again a black, swarming cloud of crows surrounded him, blocking his view of the monster and tearing into him with their many claws and beaks. Lambert caught one or two with his sword, but the mass of birds was moving too quickly to take out a significant number. With a growl of frustration, he quickly signed Igni and let out a blast of fire from his hand. Several of the birds caught alight and the rest dissipated, flying up into the trees. 

With his vision cleared he looked around for the leshen. Out of corner of his eyes he caught a brief flurry of black smoke right before his feet were taken out from under him by a tangle of roots. _Shit,_ he thought as he was thrown into the air, _dimeritium must be wearing off._ Using his momentum, he tucked into a roll and managed to soften his landing, righting himself instantly and turning to renew his attack. 

‘I’m getting bored now, let’s finish this.’ He growled, spotting the leshen in the shadows and advancing. Signing Igni again, he let a torrent of fire pour from his fingers in a constant stream. The woody limbs of the monster caught alight and it let out an agonised roar, swinging its massive arms around in a frenzy. Being careful not to get within reach of it, Lambert circled it continuing his barrage of fire. He kept it up until he was exhausted, then taking a running jump, leapt into the air and brought his sword down on the neck of the leshen. 

Weakened by the fire and the highly effective relict oil coating his sword, the monster staggered forwards from the impact. A black, viscous ooze began to leak from the wound the witcher had inflicted and it turned its empty eyed head towards him as it let out a wheezing cry of pain.

‘Save it.’ Lambert sneered, as he twirled his sword and brought it down on the monster’s neck a second time for the finishing blow. The leshen’s head fell off with a dull thud, its impressive antlers preventing it from rolling too far. Black monster blood spilling from the stump, soaking into the ground and the now headless body slumped to the floor next to it. 

Lambert took a moment to catch his breath, although the fight had gone slightly better than he was expecting, he was still injured. Letting out a hiss of pain he examined his torn amour, and the bleeding wound beneath it. _Could’ve been worse._ He thought, sheathing his sword and walking over to collect his prize. He looted the corpse for useful ingredients and hacked off the leshen’s antlers to make it easier to carry. 

Strapping it to his belt he rolled his shoulder, loosening his already aching wound. ‘One down, one to go.’ He muttered, heightening his senses and stalking off into the forest to find the witch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, here's another chapter just to keep you going. I intend to post these weekly but as I know it's hard to get into a story with only one chapter I thought I'd treat you for this week. From now on I aim to post every Wednesday and I am staying well ahead so these should be regular, all going well. Obviously have more free time on my hands at the moment, so things could change in the future. But for now if you liked it please leave me a comment. See you all soon! :)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

She could hear the fight from halfway across the forest. The horrendous cries of Mr Deer Head making her stomach churn with anxiety. What in Purgatory was going on? 

She had been climbing trees, testing her gradually returning strength, when the howls of wolves made her stop and listen. Honing in on where they were headed she had heard the unmistakable roar of her friend, and he sounded pissed. Coupled with that the sound of metal hitting wood, and…was that someone swearing? Maybe those humans had come back to try and kill her. She couldn’t let that stupid creature try and defend her again. He could get hurt. Although, anything hurting her impressively tall companion was hard to believe, more likely he would hurt whoever was attacking him. 

Locking onto Mr Deer Head’s distinctive scent of rot and animal musk, Ellie started to move through the treetops towards him. As she got closer the howls of anger turned into howls of pain. Whoever was fighting him sounded like they were winning. The loud caw of crows added to the cacophony and she tried to push herself to move faster. Her legs were still very weak and she had to focus all her attention on not slipping as she landed. Her shoes, nearly worn through, not making the task any easier.

Flinging herself into a large birch tree, the metallic scent of blood was in the air. It was fresh and smelt mostly human, although there was an aromatic hint to it, similar to spice. Crouching down on the branch to get a better look, Ellie was surprised to find that instead of the battalion of armed men she had expected with all the noise, it was in fact one man. Alone. At least he looked like a man, he was moving faster than any human she had seen. As she watched he extended his arm and a stream of sparks and bright orange flames erupted from his fingers. Leaning forward, she tried to get a better look at him. Was he a hybrid. His blood didn’t smell contaminated by demon venom, and her skin wasn’t tingling in warning. What she did notice was that the irritating ringing that had been in her head when she arrived here had returned. It rattled her head and she struggled to keep her focus on the fight as it progressed. 

The man continued his barrage of fire, circling the creature who was screaming in agony. Ellie felt her muscles clench, she wanted to help her friend but her strength was nowhere near full and this enemy was a complete unknown to her. He was carrying a long sword, moving in a low crouch, his movements cat like. She could tell he was a competent fighter even from this distance. He moved from her vision and she gripped the rough bark of the tree with her hands, leaning further over to see. Mr Deer Head was very much on fire now, he flailed his arms around, trying to hit his aggressor as the flames licked across them. The man stopped his mysterious jet of magic fire and leapt into the air, higher than should have been possible, bringing his blade slicing down on her friend’s neck. Ellie felt her stomach turned as she watched on helplessly as Mr Deer Head let out a heart wrenching scream of pain and fear. 

‘Save it.’ She heard the man say, before he flourished his sword and finished the job of cutting the creature’s head clean off. She clapped a hand over her mouth, holding back a scream. Mr Deer Head’s severed skull rocked back and forth on the forest floor, the empty holes of his eyes looking straight up at her. The ringing in her ears lessened again as she saw the soul of her only friend in this world float up from his lifeless corpse like a firefly and fade.

The stranger walked nonchalantly over to his decapitated head and used his sword to cut the impressive antlers off. Hanging the still dripping deer skull from his belt, he said something. Ellie was too stunned to hear him, and she had to unfreeze her limbs to watch as he began walking off into the trees. A tumultuous mix of shock and anger raged within in her. It took all her limited strength to keep her demonic side at bay. She listened to the man’s footsteps as they receded into the forest. They were barely audible, even for her. He was light on his feet, a trained hunter. Once he was a safe distance away she silently descended the tree and walked over to the headless body left behind. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she knelt down and touched a hand to the oozing black stump where his head had been. 

_I’m sorry my friend. May your soul sail safely to Purgatory._

She offered her prayer in silence. A last thank you for all that he had given her. Removing her hand, she sniffed at it tentatively. She could smell the metal of the sword that had killed him. Strangely it had been made of silver not steel. Not a very strong element for making a weapon. There was something mixed in with the scent. A musky smell of dog, fat and a plant of some kind, she didn’t recognise it. It definitely had an oily base to it though, the kind you used to clean a weapon with. The man must have covered his sword in a poison that was harmful to whatever Mr Deer Head had been. A low growl rumbled in her chest. She would give him a proper burial, but first she would have to retrieve his head. 

Remaining low to the ground, she inhaled deeply, sorting through the myriad of scents until she found the one she was after. Fresh blood and the subtle burn of spice. Being careful to tread lightly on the fallen leaves, she tracked the hunter into the forest. Using her hands to move on all fours through the undergrowth, she tried to think of how she was going to approach this. Stealth and cunning were her best bets. A head on fight with no weapons and weakened reflexes against someone like that was a fool’s errand.

_‘The direct approach is often the riskiest. Try and outsmart your opponent.’_ She recited her old lessons as she followed his scent. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was attempting to retrieve the skull. The lowest risk scenario would be to mourn the loss of her friend and then wait to get her strength back. But there was a niggling feeling in her gut that told her to keep pursuing the strange hunter, and to date ignoring her gut had only ever brought her bad luck.

Ellie slowed as the scent grew stronger. Now she could smell other things mixed in; sweat, dirt and horse were the predominant ones. Along with the lingering smell of Mr Deer Head. Now she could hear him too, he was muttering to himself staring intently at a very familiar tree. Keeping her body low, she manoeuvred herself into a dense patch of undergrowth. From her hidden vantage point, she observed the hunter in detail.

He was dressed in black leather amour, and had two long swords strapped to his back, one of which she presumed was the strange silver sword he had just been using. Ellie frowned, usually people kept swords at their hip. Having them on their backs would prove hard to use, and why did he have two? He was bent over examining something at the base of the tree, his back to her. Without realising it she found herself shuffling forwards trying to get a better look at him. 

He straightened up, ‘Ashes are cold. About a day old.’ He mumbled, half turning to get a better look at the tree. Now he was upright Ellie judged he was around six foot with a lean, athletic frame. The way he had moved during the fight had been graceful and controlled, so his physique came as no surprise to her. Her eyes drifted to what he had been examining and her stomach lurched. 

Shit, she could see the remnants of the fire she had made. A blatant signature at the foot of the ancient oak. Was he tracking _her_? She focused back on the man, her eyes meeting those of Mr Deer Head’s empty sockets, hanging from his belt. He had turned his back again and was holding his head up…sniffing the air? He paused, then moved in one fluid movement, pulling one of his swords from its sheath in the process. 

The niggling feeling in her gut increased, making her throat tighten. It felt like an invisible thread was tugging her back. Away from the impending danger. 

She had felt it before, many times, and knew not to fight it. With a burst of adrenaline, she tensed her legs and leapt nimbly backwards, out of the bushes and onto her feet just as the hunter’s sword sliced through the undergrowth where she had just been crouching.

‘Gotcha.’ The man exclaimed and Ellie clenched her jaw as he lunged towards her, his speed unlike any human’s. Again, that thread tugged on her sharply, telling to dance to her right. She avoided his blade again, the edge of it skimming the air by her ear. He must have smelt her. She had been positioned down wind of him, she had checked, but his nose was clearly as sensitive as hers. Who was this guy?

Now she was being attacked her senses sharpened automatically, slowing the world around her down. She was able to see the hunter in all his glory now, head on and glaring at her as he backed off. Assessing her movements. 

He had coal black hair, slicked back and an equally dark beard covering a strong chin. His nose was straight and his cheekbones prominent, but his lips were surprisingly full. They were tipped up in a smirk, giving his face a proud, arrogant look. If it wasn’t for his unlikeable expression she would have said he had a rugged attractiveness to him, only emphasised by the two long scars running down the right side of his face. Whomever he was he had certainly lived a hard life. 

One of his thick eyebrows was raised as he regarded her, then her attention was caught by his eyes and she couldn’t help tilting her head in fascinated curiosity. They were a birght amber colour, and they seemed to glow like molten lava. His pupils were two black slits, similar to a cat’s eyes and they danced with wry amusement as he mimicked the movement of her head, tilting it ever so slightly to the side. 

‘Not exactly what I was expecting either darling. But here we are.’ His voice was smoother than she had been expecting, and there was a mocking bite to them. He flourished his sword again, he liked to do that it seemed, his nose wrinkling in disgust as he sniffed the air again. ‘You definitely don’t smell human. You kind of reek of farm animals if I’m honest, and…’. He sniffed the air heavily again. ‘Sulphur. What kind of witch are you?’ His tone was becoming more patronising and Ellie could feel her hackles rising. Despite his easy banter he hadn’t put his guard down at all. Instead he had been slowly stepping to the side trying to flank her, his sword pointed at her across one arm; ready. 

She slid her foot around and adjusted her position slightly to keep him in front of her. The hunter’s glowing eyes flicked down to the movement then back up to her, his brow creasing in annoyance. Unperturbed by her unwillingness to respond he continued goading her. 

‘What are you then? You don’t look like a sorceress, that scar is a dead giveaway.’ He took another step and she matched him, her hand automatically moving to touch the jagged scar over her left eye. What did her scar have to do with anything? Slowly, she was turning so her back was to the oak tree. He was trying to trap her. His lip curled up in bored disdain and Ellie felt her irritation at him grow. ‘Listen, I’d love to chat all day but I’ve got stuff to do. So if you don’t mind-‘

‘I’d like my friend’s head back if that’s okay.’ She said, pointing at Mr Deer Head, her expression stoic. 

The hunter seemed taken aback by her sudden ability to speak, and blinked at her. His self-assured persona slipping slightly. Ellie smirked back at him. ‘What’s the matter? Wasn’t expecting a response.’ She took a deliberate step forward and to the right, keeping the tree to her side. He quickly moved to counter her proximity, stepping back. Good, get him on the defensive.

‘Friend?’ He asked, his expression incredulous. 

‘I don’t know why you’re after me. But if you give me the head and tell me how to get out of this forest I promise not to hurt you.’ 

It was a risky bluff. In all honesty he was more likely to hurt her than the other way around. But she watched the flash of surprise on his face as he considered what she’d said. His brow was pulled low in a frown, then his arrogant smirk widened into an even more arrogant grin.

‘Nah, sorry. I don’t fucking negotiate with monsters. Besides, you don’t look all that threatening to me.’ He said, then whipped forward with blinding speed, aiming his sword at her torso. She only had a second to react to the sudden shift. Her adrenaline spiking harshly as she just manged to skipped backwards, curving her spine to avoid his blade slicing her from hip to ribcage. She skidded on the dead leaves and other detritus of the forest as she fought to regain her balance. 

The hunter was on her before she could assess her next move. Her reflexes were considerably dulled and he was extraordinarily quick. The combination was proving troublesome for Ellie as she danced and sidestepped away. ‘Stay still you slippery fucking witch.’ The hunter growled as he pirouetted through the air and aimed a deadly strike at her back.

_Shit,_ Ellie thought, stumbling forward as her legs gave out. She was pushing herself too hard too soon, this had been a stupid idea. Digging her fingers into the earth, she clawed for purchase. Bracing her feet, she launched herself away in an attempt to put some distance between them. She could almost hear Solomon’s disappointment as he watched his protégé flee through the forest like a spooked animal. To her horror she heard the man take up the chase, his footsteps light but gaining on her quickly. ‘No use trying to run.’ He shouted, his voice close behind her. 

_Not the head on approach, try to outsmart. Think your way out of this._ Ellie chanted as she felt her limbs reach their limit. She hadn’t been running full speed but it would have lost any normal human. Whatever this guy was, he was definitely, definitely not normal. She waited for him to be a hair’s breadth behind her before bending down and grabbing a fistful of loose leaves and dirt, and with one violent flick of the wrist, sent it sailing into his face.

Her pursuer let out a loud string of very colourful, inventive curse words, before he skidded to an abrupt halt, his hands rubbing vigorously at his eyes. Without missing a beat, Ellie swung round and remaining close to the ground, aimed a powerful low kick to his shins with the last reserves of her strength. The impact emitted a dull thud, and the hunter was swept off his feet in spectacular fashion. He crashed, face first in the dirt, and Ellie was on him in an instant. Placing her weight on him, she twisted his arms behind his back and held them in place. 

‘Okay buddy. My turn to talk.’ She hissed between clenched teeth. A muffled, ‘fuck you’ came from somewhere beneath her. She responded by tightening her grip on his wrists. That last mad dash had taken a lot out of her and she was using her weight to keep him down now. Judging by the way his leg hadn’t broken from her kick this guy was tough, and he could easily dislodge her if she gave him the chance. 

‘Why are you trying to kill me? I haven’t done anything.’ 

‘I’fe gof a confracf.’ 

‘Huh?’ She said, bending down as she struggled to decipher what he had said. With a roar of defiance, the hunter forced his head to the side, spitting out leaves and dirt. 

‘I said,’ he spluttered, ‘I’ve got a contract on you witch.’

‘Someone paid you to kill me?’ He struggled beneath her. _Great,_ Ellie thought, _I can’t even escape being hated in a completely different world._

‘The village. They wanted you and that friend of yours dead, and I wanted to relieve them of their coin.’ He craned his neck, glaring up at her with those surreal eyes. ‘I’m a witcher.’ He said as if by way of explanation. 

She frowned down at him. ‘A what?’ 

His eyes widened in disbelief at her answer then he arched his back, attempting to buck her off. Ellie gripped him with her thighs, keeping him pinned, but for how much longer? She could feel his raw strength fighting against her. He stilled and she loosened her hold slightly. His eyes gleamed with something mischievous and she saw his mouth curl up into a wolfish smile. 

‘Normally I’d quite enjoy a woman who takes control like this, but I’m afraid the chat is over.’ Ellie tensed against him but before she could push him down into the dirt he drew his legs up underneath his pinned body and pushed off. The surprise of his movement threw her back and she had just enough time to plant her feet, stopping herself from falling backwards. 

Freed, the witcher as he called himself, collected his sword from the ground and turned to face her. ‘A witch that is in cahoots with a leshen and doesn’t know what a witcher is. My, my you are a mysterious one. Shame I’m going to have to end this, I need the money and this has taken too fucking long already.’ 

She knew what was coming but her still recovering body had done all it could. Fighting hadn’t worked, fleeing hadn’t worked and being clever hadn’t worked. There was nothing left but to fight with her last remaining weapon. Lowering into a crouch she carefully undid the restraints holding back her demonic power. The witcher glanced down at something on his chest, a necklace with a wolf’s head hanging from it. It was vibrating, twitching back and forth in a strange puppet like dance. His face became serious and he readied his sword. 

Peeling back the last of her bindings Ellie drew in a deep breath. _Knock him out, don’t kill him._ She instructed herself before she let out a feral snarl like the one she’d used to ward off Mr Deer Head. The man’s face paled slightly but he held his ground. He was brave at least, she’d give him that, but she wasn’t going to die again today. ‘Never seen a witch like you.’ He said, advancing slowly. 

Ellie bared her teeth, her canines now elongated and deadly. ‘I’m not a witch.’ She spat before lunging at the witcher.

* * *

The witch, who was not a witch, leapt at him. Her eyes which had been a striking blue were now flat, abysmal black. Where she had been fast before, she was now lightning quick, and it was only with inches to spare that Lambert managed to roll out of the way of her sudden assault. She landed easily on her feet, and spun around ready to go in for another attack.

Getting to his feet the witcher reached into his pouch and produced a dimeritium bomb. Whatever this girl was she was definitely producing some kind of magic according to his medallion. He aimed at the ‘not witch’ and threw it at a spot she was running towards. The bomb went off with a bright flash, then surrounded the stunned girl in a green aura. _There, that should make things easier_ , he thought as he sprinted towards her and aimed a two-handed slash down on her head. 

His sword landed with a thunk in the dirt, his quarry gone. There was a moment of confusion, then he felt something tugging at his sword belt. As he looked down he saw the leshen head falling away, then a blunt object which felt like an iron hammer, walloped him in the gut. He flew back from the force of the blow, his breath escaping from his lungs in a sickening rush as the attack and his subsequent landing winded him. Where had she got a weapon from? He cursed as he shook off the effects and jumped back to his feet in one fluid motion. The space where he had been was now occupied by the ‘not witch’ her arm still extended from the hip, her hand balled into a tight fist. She had _punched_ him? The kick she had delivered to his leg earlier had been hard. It had knocked him off his feet, but that had been nothing compared to the strength of her hit just now. Who the fuck was this bitch? 

Grinding his teeth together, partly in frustration but with a little humiliation thrown in, he narrowed his eyes. Play time was over. He’d never hear the end of it if the guys found out that some freaky girl beat his ass with her bare hands. She watched him with those creepy black eyes, the whites around them appearing starker than normal, as they tracked his movements. Keeping his eyes on her fists now, he went in for another attack. As he got within two feet of her he shot a stream of Igni into her face causing her to stagger back in surprise. Then, using her sudden imbalance to his advantage, Lambert sidestepped her and spun his sword so it was pointing behind him. With a quick, decisive thrust he plunged it backwards and heard the satisfying wet ripping sound of metal tearing flesh. 

Using her own dirty trick against her had been the key, he thought smugly as he turned to see the girl staring down at the blade now impaled through her stomach. Dark blood began to spread across her strange tunic, a trickle dripped from her mouth as she looked up at him. 

He had been doing this job a long time, and had seen many different emotions on his foes’ faces as they realised their impending doom. Fear, anger, sadness. What he had never seen before was the look of annoyed exasperation that the ‘not witch’ gave him now. Her eyes lightened as he watched, from inky black to the glittering lapis irises he had seen before. The witcher withdrew his sword from her abdomen with a jerk and he heard her give a small sigh as he aimed it at where her heart was. He pushed the blade through, severing her arteries cleanly. She uttered no cry of pain or wail of despair, instead she closed her eyes and muttered a resigned, ‘not again,’ before falling backwards to the ground, dead.

Lambert glared down at the body for a moment, unsure what to make of what had just happened. He nudged her with the toe of his boot, her limp body heavy and lifeless. She certainly looked dead. But for how long? Now that she wasn’t running away or attacking him Lambert got a good look at the strange creature he had been sent to kill. 

She was lithe and wiry. Her small frame not at all betraying the extreme strength he had felt from her, especially near the end. Her face was small and round, her cheeks full and a little rosy. Even in death. There was that jagged scar over one eye, it wasn’t a wound he had seen before but it looked like a claw had made it, not a blade. She had shoulder length brown hair, pulled back at the sides and tied behind. It reminded him of the way Geralt and Vesemir wore theirs. Trend setters that they were. 

She was wearing very odd clothes that he had never seen before. Short trousers that stopped half way up her thigh, made from cotton or something like it, dyed a dark blue. A torn and blooded vest of some kind that had seen far better days although it looked to be a paler shade of blue. Around her waist was a leather belt, and as he pushed her body over he could see there were two sheaths attached the back of it. This was at least slightly familiar, they were small and looked like they were made for daggers of some kind but he couldn’t identify the craftmanship. Her feet were covered by very worn, weird cotton boots. They came to her ankle and were black with a white base made of something he didn’t recognise. 

Her arms and legs were long and slender, her hands equally so. Her skin was so exposed that he wondered how she hadn’t frozen to death. _Probably some freaky magic,_ he thought. Frowning Lambert turned one of her hands over in his. No callouses or scars of any kind but she had obviously been trained in combat. He paused as his fingers brushed over a brand burnt into the inner part of her wrist. Apart from the scar on her face this was the only blemish on her pale skin. It was made up of triangles and the way the smaller ones were arranged looked kind of like a Yrden sign. The witcher traced the outline of it with his fingertip, then pulled back sharply as a biting spark of energy shot up his hand. 

His medallion tremored nervously for a moment then stilled. ‘What the…?’. He murmured. Staring down at the strange glyph. He debated cutting off the girl’s head, like the leshen, but something stayed his hand. Instead he decided to bind her and see if the peasants’ claim actually came true. No sense in rushing such an interesting job when he hardly got them, he reasoned as he whistled for his mount who was waiting patiently a distance away. His horse trotted through the trees a moment later, shaking its head in greeting.

‘Come here.’ Lambert said, beckoning his only companion over. His steed obliged willingly, it was what he valued most in a horse. Rummaging in his saddlebags he finally found what he was looking for and set about rolling the corpse over and binding her hands securely behind her back. Then he propped her up against the oak tree he had found her ill-concealed fire under and used what was left of the wood to make his own. 

Lambert wasn’t sure why he was doing this, but he figured the village could wait for their trophies. Better to make sure the job was done and if the ‘not witch’ really did have a penchant for coming back from the dead…well, would be a shame to miss it. Tying the discarded leshen head to his horse, Lambert took out some of his provisions and settled down, crossed legged, across the fire from the dead girl. Her head lolled against her breasts, which he now eyed speculatively. They weren’t the biggest he had seen, although the strange cotton vest she wore highlighted them quite well. They look about right for the size of his hand at least. 

He huffed, biting into a piece of stale bread. He was eyeing up a dead monster. His life really had hit an all-time fucking low. After ten minutes had passed and his chatty companion remained as stoic as ever Lambert began to lose interest. He glanced up at the sun through the trees, about midday he reckoned. He’d wait another hour, get his strength up, then take the two trophies to collect his reward. A twinge in his arm reminded him that he hadn’t gotten out of the battle unscathed. 

He twisted his shoulder so he could better see the scratch the leshen had managed to land on him. _Fuck_ , the leather amour had been ripped, and there was a significant amount of crusty, dried blood covering his wound. With a groan of annoyance, Lambert unbuckled his amour and shrugged out of it until he was sat in just his black undershirt. With the stiff amour gone he was able to get a better look at what had happened. 

He hissed as he pulled back the ruined cloth of his shirt. The claw had gone deep, not to the bone, but deep enough that he was going to need stitches. He debated starting the laborious and loathsome task now but as he was absorbed in his musings the air around him got heavy, and his medallion starting doing a hang man’s jig against his chest. 

His eyes snapped up to see what was causing it and they were immediately drawn to the corpse sat across from him. There was nothing visible around the girl, but the air seemed to be humming and pulling towards her. Like a whirlpool in a still lake. Lambert remained still as stone as he watched the lifeless body start to move. Her chest, that he had been eyeing up before, rose as if attached to a string that was being pulled from above. Her head remained limp and for a second the witcher thought someone else was performing necromancy on her. Then her head snapped up and with a loud gasp, followed by a racking cough, the ‘not witch’ opened her eyes and jolted upright as if she had just been saved from drowning.

_Well, fuck me sideways._ Lambert thought, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. Those peasants had actually been telling the truth. 

‘Shit. That hurt.’ She said, her voice hoarse. Her eyes, which Lambert noted as clear blue, landed on him; narrowing in an instant. 

‘Why am I tied up?’ She asked, and the witcher gave her a languid smile. 

‘You’re my prisoner now. And an interesting one at that.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, it's Wednesday so that means it's update day! Yay! I'm hoping this drip feed posting will keep me ahead of you all so you can get regular updates, and at the moment its all looking good. I am currently writing chapter 7, so there's plenty more to come trust me. I welcome all feedback, so don't be afraid to tell me if there's something you don't like as well. Anyway, hope you're all staying safe and reading lots of fanfic in the process. I'll see you all next week! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

‘Prisoner? I thought you wanted to kill me?’

Lambert tilted his head to one side, regarding the strange girl in front of him. ‘I did. But it appears you’re allergic to the prospect, so I’ve got to think of another way to collect my bounty.’ He took out a vial of swallow and knocked it back. Needed to get ready in case she tried to pull something funny. 

The girl’s arresting blue eyes narrowed to slits. ‘So, you’re a killer for hire. And you go after creatures like Mr Deer Head.’ Lambert nearly choked on his potion when he heard what crazy Blue eyes had called the leshen. _Mr Deer Head in-fucking-deed._

‘In a manner,’ he spluttered, ‘yes. Although we call ourselves witchers, and I don’t just kill monsters like that leshen.’ 

A little crease appeared on her brow and a blankness came into her expression. So, she hadn’t heard of a leshen eh, and yet she had been hanging out with one like they were best drinking buddies. 

‘You kill humans too?’

_Humans._ The disassociation from the word spoke volumes. Lambert decided to take the indirect approach in his line of questioning.

‘Sometimes.’ He said, ‘depends on the situation…and my mood.’ At this he gave her a nasty grin. She baulked slightly at the sight but not as much as women usually did. Across the dancing campfire she gazed at him, her expression more curious than repulsed or hostile.

‘Witcher.’ She said, rolling the word around on her tongue. Experimenting with it.

‘Yeah, witcher.’ Lambert picked up a knife and speared a piece of cheese, pointing it at her lazily. ‘Now what do they call you?’ 

He watched carefully as she shifted in her seated position, her wrists jangling against the restraints he had placed on her. The movement was natural and expected for someone placed in an uncomfortable position, but he saw it for what it _really_ was. She was testing her bonds. 

‘I wouldn’t try it.’ He said. The girl froze immediately. ‘Those shackles are made with dimeritium. Got them off a witch hunter I killed. You won’t be able to use any of your abilities and its super effective against magical monsters.’ 

‘Who says I’m a monster?’ She quipped. The witcher paused, giving her a hard look.

‘I’ve been doing this job long enough to know you’re not human.’ 

She smirked back at him. ‘But not long enough to know exactly _what_ I am.’ 

His mouth twisted into a sour grimace. ‘The continent is a big place. Quite reasonable I wouldn’t have come across every abomination and goat fucking oddity out there.’ Her smirk grew.

‘Am I a…goat fucking oddity?’ She asked, her eyes gleaming with amusement. Even through his building temper Lambert couldn’t help staring at them, fascinated. 

‘Only you can answer that.’ He batted back eventually, stuffing the piece of cheese into his mouth. He signalled for her to talk as he chewed.

‘A very unusual interrogation method you’ve got going here. So far you’ve given me no reason to tell you what I am.’ He glared at her, trying to finish his mouthful so he could talk again. The smirk morphed into a wide grin, her eyes sparkling with mirth. The disarming warmth of it made him stop mid chew and stare at her. 

‘Luckily for you I’m not one to be mysterious. I’ll tell you what I am, oh great monster slayer, and then maybe you could help me.’ 

He finally forced down the lump of masticated cheese. ‘Not going to help you. Trying to kill you, remember?’ He meant it to sound like a threat but the more he talked to this strange blue-eyed girl the less attractive that outcome appeared. 

‘Oh right, sorry. Yes, kill me. But maybe once you hear my story you’ll realise how pointless that objective is and help me instead.’ This really wasn’t going the way he had planned, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. 

‘Just fucking tell me will you. Are you a dryad, a hornless succubus, some sort of weird female djinn?’ 

She shook her head, the shit eating grin still fixed on her face. ‘Nope, nope, nope. I am, in fact,’ she paused dramatically, ‘a demon.’ 

Silence fell between them. Only the crackle of the fire and the sounds of his horse grazing behind them filling the void. Lambert narrowed his eyes, his mouth pulling into a hard line. If what she said was true it meant one of two things; either he was in real deep shit right now and he was about to be slaughtered by a powerful demon that had been toying with him all along, or she really was a witch and had done a deal with a powerful demon and…yeah, he was in the shit either way. 

It was an ongoing mission of his to not allow Vesemir’s dreary lessons to dictate his life. Unlike his brothers, who revered the old coot like he was the oracle of all things. So far, he had managed reasonably well with only the occasional unwelcome nugget of wisdom dropping in when he least wanted it. Now he couldn’t help but think of the old man’s sermon on demons, even with the detail of his grumbling monotone delivering it.

_Not much is known about demons. Some consider wraiths, hyms and sylvans to be demonic in nature, but in truth they are simply dark beings that inhabit our world. The word demon actually connotes something far deadlier. Mages have attempted to summon demons, extremely powerful beings from other worlds, and if rumours are to be believed, some succeeded. However, if you are ever unfortunate to encounter a demonic being on the Path, my best advice is to avoid them. These creatures are dangerous, intelligent and there are no certain ways to kill them. To fight a demon is akin to fighting a god._

Lambert stared at the girl sat across from him. Her knees were drawn up, her hands still bound behind her back and those big blue eyes staring back expectantly. She didn’t look dangerous, or like a god, but when had anything been true to appearances in this line of work? The memory of her leaping towards him, black eyes and fangs bared, came to mind. From here on out he’d have to presume she was telling the truth and tread very lightly.

_Remember when facing a monster that outmatches you; if you cannot run, watch your back, your flank but most importantly do not neglect to keep looking ahead._

Thanks, old man. 

‘A demon? That’s quite a claim. Don’t think I’ve met one of those before.’ He kept his voice light and dismissive. The girl gave him a funny look before her grin faded. 

‘You’re not afraid? Most people don’t tend to cope very well after they find that out.’ 

Lambert tried to see the deception or trick in her comment, but when he looked at her face he saw a hauntingly familiar expression on it. Someone, who was extremely accustomed to being alone.

‘No offence, but you’re not the scariest thing I’ve ever encountered. Have you ever seen a botchling?’ She shook her head, that confused look on her face again.

‘I’m not from here, so I have no idea what any of those things you’ve mentioned are.’ Realisation dawned on Lambert. Shit, why hadn’t he thought of that before. She was from another sphere, that was why she was wearing odd clothes and kept looking at him funny. Also, he thought with an uncomfortable lurch, that backed up her claim to be a demon as they were not of this world. 

‘How did you get here? Did someone summon you?’

The demon girl blinked in surprise at his easy acceptance of all this. Obviously in her world magic and monsters weren’t a common occurrence. ‘I fell through a gateway. Not sure how it happened but one minute I was in London…a city in my world, the next I was sat on my arse in a dark forest and no way back. Out of nowhere this great big deer man shows up and tries to rush me but I growled at him and he disappeared. Then if that wasn’t enough I run into a bunch of humans and before I can ask which way is out, one stabs me through the chest with a pitchfork. When I woke up they were still there and not very happy about me…well, not being dead I guess, but Mr Deer Head reappeared and distracted them so I could get away. Now it’s been about a week I reckon and I still haven’t got out of this forest or found a way to open a door to get home.’ 

She spoke in a rush, as if she had been waiting to tell someone what had happened to her for a long time. The witcher blinked slowly, his mouth hanging open slightly at the deluge of information. The girl blew out a breath, then smiled.

‘Feels good to finally talk to someone about it. It’s been a mad few days. So, can you help me get back? You seem to know a lot about demons and other worlds. You can always tell the villagers you killed me.’

Lambert scratched his beard thoughtfully. Things were getting muddy here, he was more of the charge in kill some nekkers, get the money, go, kind of guy. This contract was turning into one of the ones Geralt liked to take, that was if his stories were anything to go by. Having said that, he’d had more fun and excitement in the last few hours than he’d encountered in the past six months. Maybe he should help her. And maybe he should get his finger out his ass and start acting like a fucking witcher, not a village wise woman; here to answer all life’s problems.

He put away his provisions and reassembled his amour. He’d tend to his stitches later once this was over. Blue eyes watched him silently as he stamped out the fire and readied his horse. ‘You probably couldn’t leave the forest because the leshen didn’t want you to.’ He said, conversationally as he secured his saddle. 

‘Huh.’ She replied, ‘that makes sense. He did seem unwilling to show me out when I asked.’ 

Lambert rolled his eyes, his back to her as he pulled on the leather girth. This demon, if she really was one, was very naïve. Nothing of the godly intelligence Vesemir had mentioned at the moment. Turning back round he made his way to the now dead fire, standing over the girl. She craned her neck, looking up at him in confusion. 

‘Get up.’ He said, his tone abrupt. Using the tree to support herself, she pushed up and rose to her feet. Lambert noticed there was a slight shake to her knees as she stood at her full height, which was about level with his chin. Gazing down at her coldly he spoke in a commanding tone.

‘I’m going to bind your hands in front of you. If you attempt to run I’ll chase you down like I did before and judging by your shaking legs right now, I think I’d probably catch you.’ She glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes a shade darker then they had been a second before.

‘You’re not going to help me then?’ Wordlessly, he undid the dimeritium shackles he had placed on her wrists. She dropped her arms limply, keeping that stormy gaze of hers fixed on him as he circled around then indicated for her to hold her arms out in front of her. Slowly she complied, her mouth a thin, tense line. Having secured her again he took out a length of rope from his bags and tied one end to the pommel of his saddle. The other he fastened to the restraints. Checking the knots would hold, Lambert took hold of his horses’ bridle and clicked his tongue. He kept his back to the demon as they began to walk through the woods. He could hear her light footfalls following behind him and his horse, and although it was hard to detect, he could hear the slight unsteadiness in her steps.

They continued in silence for a while, the girl’s eyes burning a hole in the back of his head. If Lambert had been a more chivalrous man…or Geralt, he might have felt guilty at his decision to turn the demon over to the villagers. But times were hard and he was sure the coin was worth it. Or at least, he hoped it was. Still, there was something gnawing at his insides as they drew near the edge of the forest, the trees thinning around them. A feeling that maybe…he was choosing wrong.

Finally, the forest came to an end, the path they were on weaving ahead through open grassland and undulating hillocks. Lambert took in a deep breath, letting the early Autumn air fill his lungs, clearing his nose of the cloying scents of the forest. He felt his prisoner’s attention, which had been focused on him for the entirety of their quiet journey so far, shift to the surrounding area. Looking back, he found the girl lifting her head as if smelling the air too, her now lightened eyes darting around curiously. Of all the limited things he had read about demons, she really didn’t match anything, but the sun was getting low in the sky and he wanted rid of this disturbingly fascinating monster.

Pulling himself into the saddle, Lambert gathered his reins and gave Blue eyes a cursory glance. ‘Going to speed up now. Want to get to the village before nightfall.’ She shot him a venomous look, but didn’t say anything. Just how he liked it. Digging his heels into his mount’s sides he spurred him to a brisk trot. She was keeping pace, just, from the sound of it.

It was after nearly an hour of constant trotting that they finally past the first few run down huts on the outskirts of the village. It was then Lambert realised he didn’t even know the name of this place. Not that it mattered, they were all the same after a while. Slowing his horse to a walk, he cast a look behind him to see how his prisoner was doing. He was greeted with a very angry looking demon. Although, right at this moment she actually more closely resembled an exhausted, pissed off girl in tattered, bloody clothes. Somewhere along the way she had lost a shoe, and her one bare foot was coated in dirt from the road. Her hair had come loose as well, giving her a dishevelled, wild appearance. 

Smirking at the sight, the witcher dismounted and tied his horse up on a nearby post. ‘Good job keeping up. A normal human would have fallen and been dragged half the way.’ He said, a vindictive edge to his words. Her mouth curled into a sneer as she watched him retrieve the leshen head.

‘Typical slayer. Heartless to a fault.’ 

Lambert snorted, his nose wrinkling in disdain. ‘Keep it up demon, I’ve heard worse.’ He shouldered the leshen head and grabbed the end of her rope, yanking it hard so she stumbled clumsily towards him. She managed to regain her balance right before she slammed into his chest, her eyes flashing angrily as she stared up at him through her wayward hair. 

He lowered his head so he was a few inches from hers and snarled. ‘And I’m not a slayer, I’m a witcher. Learn it.’ 

‘Why?’ She said, raising her voice as he turned and began walking into the village. ‘I’m not going to be with you much longer. Seeing as you’re handing me over to be tortured, or burned or whatever it is these people are going to do to me.’ 

Lambert ignored her even though she was practically shouting at him now. Keeping his eyes forward he scanned the muddy shithole looking for the man in charge. He found him stood in the doorway of ‘The Twelve Maidens’, Rika and a bunch of other men he recognised from their first meeting stood behind him. The old man watched his approach with suspicious eyes. A few of the men gather with him were talking in low voices but the witcher’s heightened hearing meant he heard every word.

‘It’s the freak.’

‘’E brought that witch back alive.’

‘We ain’t going to pay ‘im, are we?’

Lambert took a deep breath in through his nose. _Here we go,_ he thought, _the same old bull shit._ Locking eyes with the leader, he put on his best crowd-pleasing grin. He didn’t respond very positively, folding his arms as the witcher came to a stop outside the tavern. There was a moment of awkward silence, then Lambert ran out of what limited patience he had left.

‘How’s it going old timer? Got your order.’ He threw the leshen head towards the group of men. It landed in the dirt with a dull thud, rolling to the side so its empty eyes stared up at the old man. His attention flashed down to the skull then slowly moved back to Lambert. Damn, this guy was tough. Most peasants would have run screaming at the horror of seeing a monster’s head up close. 

‘That was one part of the deal witcher.’ He said in a voice that carried surprisingly far out in the open. ‘However, I still see the other part is very much alive and standing in the middle of our village.’ 

‘Well, about that. Turns out you were telling the truth, she can come back from the dead.’ Rika and some of the other men started making hostile noises and he was very aware of the doors of the nearby houses opening. 

‘You didn’t believe us you cheating mutant? What are we meant to do with a witch that can’t die? She’ll kill us all.’ 

Lambert turned to look at the girl stood a few feet behind him. She was still glaring at him as if willing him to burst into flames. ‘Hmmm, no. I don’t think she will. And what you do with her is of no concern to me.’ He turned back and gave the group of men an arrogant look. ‘Point is, I got her out of your forest. Along with the leshen. You can hunt again and _that_ was the deal.’ He was just about done with this charade. He wanted to leave, preferably with his coin, but the atmosphere was turning and it was turning a horribly familiar way. 

‘You can’t pay him Issui. ‘E’s a damn charlatan.’ Rika said, looking at the old leader in disbelief. Issui? So, the old man was a druid, it sounded like a druid name anyway. That would explain his more…educated accent. Issui took a step towards him, then nudged the leshen skull with his foot. 

‘I’m afraid he’s right witcher. I asked for both the monsters’ heads. You gave us one and brought one straight to our village. There will be no payment today and I suggest you take the witch with you.’

Lambert felt the thin veneer of his manners cracking. ‘Listen hear Issui, you goat fucking tree hugger.’ Issui’s eyebrows disappeared into his messy grey hair. ‘I did a job, or depending how you look at it, at least _half_ a job and that deserves some compensation. And for the record, I’m not taking the ‘witch’, you can keep her here and lock her in a tomb for eternity for all I care, but you _will_ pay me my due.’ His voice had increased in volume and he had advanced step by step, until he was toe to toe with the druid leader. 

He knew his approach always resulted in the worst results but he’d had enough of being ripped off, insulted and spat at in every back-water village from Nilfgard to Kaedwen. Sometimes violence and threats were the only way to get fair payment. But even as he suggested they should permanently imprison the girl, he felt that annoying niggling doubt in his gut, telling him to take her with him. He didn’t have enough time to dwell on the disturbing thought however, as someone from the now gathered crowd threw the first stone. It hit him hard on the shoulder, bouncing off and thudding to the ground. He turned slowly and gave the boy that had launched the projectile a cautionary look. His face paled and he took a step back under the witcher’s burning gaze.

‘I think the people have given you your answer mutant. Best if you leave now.’ Issui said, and Lambert practically burst with rage at the patronising way he spoke. He gripped the rope he was holding until his knuckles felt like they were about to crack, and his other itched for his steel sword, as the projectiles and insults started to fly with abandon.

‘Freak!’

‘Mutant!’

‘Witcher scum!’ 

Most of the stones and clods of dirt bounced off of his amour. But a few found their mark, catching his face. He raised his arm to shield it. Closing his eyes to also try and block out some of the angry mob and keep his volatile temper even. 

_Don’t react, they’re just a bunch of stupid peasants._ He chanted, taking deep breathes and letting the cries of ‘mutant’ and ‘freak’ wash over him like so many waves on the shore. He picked up the sour smell of alcohol and sweat right before his eyes snapped open and he saw Rika advancing on him, his fist raised. Ducking just in time, as the burly man swung at him with a curse.

‘Get out, you fucking cheat!’ Lambert took a nimble step back, keeping out of range of the other man’s fists. Rika turned red, not appreciating being shown up in front of the village. In his frustration he sucked in his cheeks and spat a wad of mucus and saliva at Lambert’s feet. The witcher caught a small movement out of the corner of his eye, then looked down to see he had backed up next to his prisoner. She was watching the scene, that small crease of confusion wrinkling her brow. It was hard to see what colour her eyes were from this angle, but he sure as shit hoped she wasn’t about to take advantage of the chaos. 

‘You couldn’t kill a lame doe you fucking vagrant!’ Rika shouted, his anger still increasing. Another stone flew at him as he watched, but missed and hit Blue eyes on the arm. She flinched slightly and looked down, dazed at the stone rocking at her feet. Then she turned her face up to his and his eyes widened. His seething anger momentarily forgotten. 

She looked sad. Her eyes the lightest he’d seen them. A sparkling turquoise almost. Like the sky in Summer. There was no trace of the anger or hatred he had seen as he dragged her from the forest and tried to hand her over to the village. There was only an expression of deep understanding. 

Rika let out a roar and charged Lambert again. He was about to leap back and make for his horse when the girl’s eyes changed to flat black in an instance. His stomach dropped as she curled her lip back over her teeth, her canines now pronounced; almost vampire like. She let out a guttural snarl that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his medallion began jerking violently against his chest. Instead of attacking him, and freeing herself in the process, the demon’s head snapped towards the advancing Rika. 

The witcher, for the first time in a long time, was unsure what to do next. He watched as if in slow motion as she lowered into a crouch, her hands still bound with the dimeritium shackles. Which as it turned out were doing about as much good as a daisy chain at this point. Rika finally clocked the new threat and baulked, his massive frame having trouble with his sudden change of speed. He slipped and skidded in the dirt as the demon let out a horrific roar that was hard to believe came from anyone that looked like that. Even Lambert confessed he was genuinely intimidated by it. 

The entire village had stopped in their persecution of him and were staring in terror at the nightmare now being unleashed on their village. A few started to scream and run, whilst Rika remained frozen, unable to escape the monster’s menacing gaze. Issui too was locked in position, his hands half raised as if trying to think of the right spell to cast to solve this calamity. It was only when the girl launched herself at the quivering wreck that had been Rika that Lambert finally acted. Drawing his sliver sword in a heartbeat, he spun on the spot, gaining enough momentum so that his blade sliced the demon girl’s abdomen with brutal efficiency.

There was a horrible gurgling sound as some of her unusually dark blood escaped her stomach and splatter into the dirt. Then she sank to her knees, the rest of her following in quick succession, collapsing on the ground in a motionless heap. Silence fell on the village as everyone stared at the still form of the monster they had just witnessed and the witcher standing over her, his sword dripping blood. One by one they started to yell with relief, some breaking down into hysterical tears, some even applauding. Quietly, Lambert wiped his sword as best he could on a tuft of yellowing grass and sheathed it. 

What had just happened? He knew she was dangerous but he had never, for one-minute thought she would have gone feral in the middle of the village. She hadn’t seemed the type. He suddenly remembered the sad, pitying look she had given him right before she had attacked and a horrible, crushing feeling entered his chest. His only consolation was that he had deliberating gone for her torso, knowing that the last time they had fought she had revived from similar wounds.

‘That was quite a show master witcher.’ 

Lambert looked up, in a daze, at Issui as the druid leader gave him a reluctant smile. A few of the peasants cheered and congratulated him, one even finding the stones to pat him on the back. Rika was still sat in the dirt, his face and chest covered in the blood from the girl, his arms shaking visibly as he looked up in awe at the witcher.

‘It seems we had a misunderstanding before, sir.’ Issui continued, reaching into a pouch at his belt. _Oh, he was sir now?_ ‘Here is your payment, as agreed. With a little extra for our thanks.’ 

The old man gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and Lambert felt a swell of satisfaction knowing this was killing the conniving old bastard to do this.

‘Thank you. All in a day’s work.’ He replied smugly, giving the old coot a haughty stare. ‘If you need my services again, you need only ask.’

_But I’ll be cold in the ground, eaten by ghouls by the time I come anywhere near this shit hole again._ He thought, taking the heavy coin purse from Issui. 

The old man cleared his throat awkwardly as he pocketed the money. ‘Ahem, if you don’t mind the asking witcher. What will you do with the body?’ Issui waved a hand in the direction of the near dissected girl lying face down in the dirt. That worrying niggle pulled insistently on Lambert’s gut.

‘I’ll take her with me if you don’t mind.’ He said before he could think, although he wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t regret that decision later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, another week, another update. Thank you for the views so far, it's great to know people are reading my strange little imaginings. Hope everyone is staying safe and I look forward to doing this all again next week. As always, read, review and enjoy! :)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

‘Hey…hey. Blue eyes. Wake up.’

Ellie felt like a truck…no, a fleet of sixteen wheelers had run over her. ‘Urgh.’ She moaned, as she became aware of a hand shaking her shoulder not entirely gently. 

‘Come on. I’ve not got all night.’ She recognised that annoying voice. Opening her eyes a crack, a sharp stab of pain lanced through her head as they struggled to adjust to the firelight. Her legs and arms felt like jelly, the command to move them slipping through her nerves like treacle. Gingerly, she lifted her hand and tried to shield her face from the glare, then she became aware of someone leaning over her. 

The man who’s voice she had recognised looked down at her, his strange cat like eyes the same bright orange of the flames dancing a few feet from her. He had an annoyed expression, as if she had kept him waiting for something. His full lips pulled up at one side. She was lying flat on her back on something soft, her nose scented the air automatically, picking up the strong smell of horse from under her. The witcher’s distinctive smell of spiced blood hit her next, the strength of it making her stomach roll and she couldn’t help flinching back in disgust.

‘Yeah, you’re not the first girl to do that waking up to me. But I really need you to sit up and eat something.’ There was a note of bitterness to his voice as he let go of her, sitting back on his heels. Ellie shifted herself onto her elbows and eyed him suspiciously. 

‘Where are we?’ She asked, giving her surroundings a quick scan. It was dark, apart from the fire that had been made. Beyond the circle of amber light, she could make out the trunks of trees standing like shadowy sentinels around them. They were back in the forest? No, these trees were thinner, more spaced out, this was an unfamiliar woodland. The witcher’s horse was stood on the edge of the firelight, grazing contentedly, his back free of the saddle and bridle he had been wearing. She spotted his belongings were arranged around the fire. A bed roll laid open across from her, an assortment of bandages and a needle lying on it. The smell of his blood was coming strongest from there.

Looking back at the witcher she assessed him for injuries. There was a tear in his black shirt on one arm, and she could just see the off-white colour of a bandage underneath it. How long had she been out? He’d long enough to perform surgery on himself and by the look of the rumpled bedroll at least have a nap. The last thing she remembered was the cold silver of his sword slicing through her stomach for a second time that day. The sensation of burning pain as she felt her innards try to become her outards. There had been the faintest memory of people cheering right before she had collapsed in the dirt and succumbed to the blackness. 

Dying three times in such quick succession was not a good thing. Ellie could feel her stomach lurching as her body reacted to the revival process again. The witcher watched with a raised eyebrow as she twisted suddenly to the side and vomited in the dirt. The black viscous puddle was larger than last time. She was really putting herself thorugh the wringer since getting to this bizarre world. 

‘Definitely need to get something in you now.’ He muttered, standing up and moving over to the other side of the fire. Ellie pushed herself into a sitting position, her head spinning causing her to see two of him as he busied himself by a pot of something. The smell of cooked meat and vegetables wafted towards her and she clutched her mouth and nose with one hand, groaning. He gave her a sideways look, his expression a little hurt.

‘My cooking’s not that bad demon. No need for the theatrics.’ 

She waved her other hand at him. ‘No, it’s not that.’ She said behind her fingers. ‘I’m sure it’s fine, it’s just dying and reviving kind of takes it out of me. Plus, I don’t actually need food to live.’

She saw him lower the ladle he had been holding, serving the stew he had made into a crude bowl, and give her a funny look. ‘All of that sounded bat shit crazy. And I’ve heard some bat shit crazy stuff in my time.’ 

‘Well, how do you think I feel with you throwing words like leshen and hym and witcher around? It’s not like either of us has the first clue about each other…and why am I still tied up?’ She was looking down at her ankles which she now noticed were shackled together with those…what had he called them? Dimerity? Dimerite? Dimeritium, that was it. She jangled them experimentally but the force needed to break them was beyond her at the moment. 

The witcher came back round the fire towards her, offering her the bowl of stew despite her request for it. ‘You thought I was going to let you roam around freely after the stunt you pulled back there?’ He gave a snort of laughter but there was no mirth in it. ‘You really are a naïve little demon.’

She glowered at him, resolutely ignoring the bowl he was holding out to her. He pushed it at her. ‘Eat.’ He commanded, his arrogant expression begging to be slapped. 

‘I…told…you. I don’t need to eat.’ She said, her jaw clenched. This man was as infuriating as he was fascinating. It made for a confusing combination. He let out a laboured sigh and set the bowl down by her feet. Ellie noticed not only was she tied up but both her shoes were now gone. Her bottom lip jutted out in a pout as she felt a twinge of sadness at losing her sneakers. They had been through a lot with her. Now she thought about it, the rest of her clothes weren’t exactly in mint condition anymore. Her light blue vest top was torn in several places. The most notable being the slashes across her midriff where her captor had cut her with his sword, and the three holes near her chest where the pitchfork had lodged itself. Blood and dirt covered the rest of it so it was very hard to see it had been blue at all. Her shorts were in better condition but were equally dirty.

The witcher moved back to his bedroll and sat down cross legged. He watched her stoically as he picked up his own bowl of stew and ate it in silence. Ellie drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them self-consciously. She must really look like some kind of wild monster right now, covered in blood and bits of forest. Although she had never been one to care about how she looked, her life not really calling for that kind of thing, she felt kind of embarrassed under the gaze of those burning cat eyes. 

He put down his bowl and nodded towards her torso which she was covering with her legs. ‘You heal quickly.’ He stated simply. 

Ellie gave him a suspicious look. ‘Is that a question?’ 

‘No. I’m just saying what I’ve observed so far. You said we don’t know the first thing about each other but I’ve been making notes.’ 

Suspicion turned into irritation. ‘Okay then _witcher_. What are your notes so far?’ She saw the flick of anger at the mocking way she said his title. Chagrin instantly flooded through her as she remembered the angry mob she had witnessed turn against him. That had been a step too far. 

As quickly as it had appeared, however, it was gone and he gave her an arrogant smirk. ‘You move and fight like a witcher. Yet you also act like a wild animal when cornered. Your eyes go black and your teeth elongate, and you make noises like an injured fiend. You’ve come from another world and are knowledgeable about portals, but you are unfamiliar with magic and monsters. You have a strange symbol on your wrist, you claim you’re a demon and don’t need food for survival. What else…oh, yeah, and you don’t _fucking_ die.’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘Have I missed anything?’ 

‘Quite a bit actually, but that’s not bad for first impressions.’ Ellie said darkly. She moved her hands down her bare legs and rubbed at were the shackles were digging into her ankles. ‘So, what now? Thought you were giving me to those people to torture and lock me away for all eternity.’ 

He brought a hand up to scratch at his beard again. ‘Not too sure. Wasn’t intending on bringing you with me but I had a feeling…’. He trailed off, his expression becoming guarded. 

‘A feeling? A feeling compelled you to bring along a girl you’ve tried to kill twice and were all too eager to get rid of not five minutes earlier? Must have been one hell of a feeling.’ 

The witcher gave her a disgusted look. ‘Listen Blue eyes, I could leave you here to fend for yourself and let whatever monster comes along first turn you inside out, but I’ve decided out of the goodness of my heart, to you with me and try and get to the bottom of what you are and why you’re here?’ 

‘So, I’m still your prisoner?’ He nodded, his mouth turning up into that self-satisfied smirk she was rapidly becoming acquainted with. ‘And where are you planning to go?’

‘To the only place that has the knowledge to figure out both those things. The witcher fortress of Kaer Morhen.’ 

It was Ellie’s turn to raise an eyebrow. ‘You said that like I should be impressed.’ 

He deflated slightly and began packing away his stuff grumpily. ‘You should be. Not many people get to see it nowadays. Hunk of crumbling rubble that it is.’ He muttered under his breath. ‘And it may be the only place you can find a way back to your world.’ 

‘Am I at least going to be able to ride the horse this time?’ She asked hopefully, taking another look at her bare feet as the witcher called his mount over to tack him up. He shot her an incredulous look.

‘No. I’m taking you home, but you’re still a danger. Don’t worry, we won’t go fast.’ 

‘Not what I was worried about.’ She grumbled, tucking her chin on her knees. 

‘Way I see it, you haven’t got many options Blue eyes.’ The witcher quipped securing the last of his belongings to the horse. Ellie glared at him, her eyes turning stormy.

‘I have a name you know.’ 

‘Thought common folk weren’t meant to say a demon’s name. Brings ill omens upon them or some shit.’ She rolled her eyes dramatically.

‘If you’re worried about ill omens from a demon, tying one up and pissing it off isn’t a good start.’ She had said it argumentatively but the man suddenly threw back his head and let out a loud, barking laugh. It was the first time she had heard him sound anything other than insolent, irritating or biting and she couldn’t help her answering smile at the humour in it. His face seemed younger as he looked at her, his strange eyes creasing at the corners. 

‘That’s a very good point. What’s your name then demon?’

Her smile widened, despite the less than favourable circumstances she found herself in, at least her captor was interesting. ‘My name is Eleanor, but you can call me Ellie. Everyone does.’ 

The witcher scratched at his beard, which he seemed to do whenever he was thinking about something. ‘Not what I expected but okay.’ He finally said, stamping out the fire and crouching down in front of her to move the shackles from her ankles to her wrists again. She examined the scars that marred his face, giving him a dangerous look. He leant away as he completed the task, and she wondered again what kind of life this man had led to earn scars like that. As she continued to stare she felt his gaze fixed on her, and a funny tingling feeling started up in her face as he scrutinised her. Finally, he broke the staring contest and straightened up, pulling her with him.

‘I’m Lambert.’ He said simply, before turning and getting in the saddle. Ready to start the long journey the pair of them now inexplicably found themselves on.

* * *

Lambert let out a weary sigh as the swamp came into view. He had done his best to circumnavigate the stinking hell hole, but with road blockades still in effect on the road to Novigrad he had little choice but to venture through the unsavoury quagmire.

‘Hate fucking swamps.’ He muttered, feeling his horse’s hooves sink into the water-logged mud. Thick clouds of swamp gas rose up around them, reducing the distance he could see. The bare, moss covered trees loomed from the smog like an army of leshens. He steered his mount to what looked like the clearest path, choosing the raised ground to keep them out of the water. 

The worst thing about these gods forsaken places, apart from the drowners and water hags, was the way it diminished most of his senses. He could still see, hear and smell better than any human, but it was as if someone had put a bag over his head. Everything was dampened and marred by the foul-smelling waters of the swamp. 

He heard a small noise of dismay as his prisoner squelched behind him. Turning in his saddle he saw the girl grimacing as she pulled one of her feet out of the mud with a soft sucking sound. She had managed to keep pace with him despite them travelling for a night and a day. He hadn’t gone faster than a steady walk and now he felt a small pang of guilt looking at her bare feet, now caked in filthy swamp mud. 

His horse was struggling to move its own feet with him sat astride him. Sighing again he dismounted, his own boots hitting the ground with a splat. The demon girl, who called herself Ellie, gave him a quizzical look. He hadn’t spoken to her since their discussion round the fire and he didn’t feel in the mood to start now. Taking his horse by the bridle he continued on. No need for all that guilt shit. She was his prisoner after all. 

A harsh screeching cry suddenly echoed through the mist. He heard her flinch behind him. ‘This place is delightful.’ She said sarcastically. Lambert smirked. He couldn’t help finding her disgruntled muttering amusing. He led them further in, the rotten, putrid smell of the swamp getting stronger with each step. The witcher listened intently, past the sound of their squelching footsteps and straining to detect any hint of approaching drowners, or worse, a water hag emerging from the depths. 

‘Look, I know you’re trying to ignore me now, but could you at least tell me how long we’ll be walking through this sludge?’ 

Without turning, Lambert answered in a bored tone, ‘Not sure. Usual route is out so this is the scenic one. Now shut up so I can listen.’ 

‘Pfft, scenic.’ Blue eyes muttered. But didn’t ask anything else. When they had gone on so long the mud had started to weigh Lambert’s boots down and even his horse was looking disgruntled at their circumstances, he heard a distance scream coming from somewhere in the dense smog. He stopped, his senses on high alert. It had sounded like a girl but swamps occasionally harboured foglets, who were known for their illusions. His prisoner wasn’t paying quite as much attention and actually collided with his back as she splashed up behind him. 

‘Hey, what the-‘ 

He held up a hand to silence her and could almost feel the death glare he was getting. He didn’t have any time to worry about her however, as another louder scream reached him followed by a recognisable hissing snarl. Drowners. 

‘What was that?’ She asked. 

‘Bad news.’ Lambert replied, unfastening his pouch of bombs from his horse and checking the knot tying her to the saddle. He gave her a warning look as he readied himself. ‘Don’t even think about running off.’ 

She gave a sarcastic tug on the rope, jangling her shackles in the process. ‘Where would I go? I don’t know where we are.’ 

‘Still. Don’t run off.’ With that he stepped off the slightly drier path they had been following and into the disgusting swamp water. It came up to his knees, and it was impossible not to make a noise as he set off in the direction of the sound of fighting drowners. Luckily it seemed stealth wasn’t key in this situation as another loud scream sent the filthy fish monsters into a frenzy. Whoever was making that noise wasn’t long for this world. That was unless a witcher happened to be passing by. 

Said witcher gritted his teeth as he pushed his legs to move faster through the quagmire. Trouble with swamp water was that it wasn’t just that, he also had to contend with the thick, sticky mud and silt at the bottom. Along with anything nasty lurking in its depths. The smog had closed around him almost as soon as he had taken three steps away from his horse, hiding them from view. He just hoped that demon listened to his order. 

_But what does it matter if she doesn’t?_ He wondered to himself. _She’d be one less problem for you._ It was true. She wouldn’t be a danger for long, probably get taken by a sink hole, or attacked by a water hag. Then again, she was a demon that couldn’t be killed, and he didn’t want that on his record. 

All thoughts about the demon quickly flew from his mind as out of the mists he saw a number of leaping black shadows swarming around a very frightened girl. She was cowering, waist high in the waters of the swamp. Her arms thrown over her head in desperation. The flesh of them already cut into bloody ribbons by the four drowners now circling her. Lambert’s lip curled as he drew his silver sword, the attention of the monsters snapping to him instantly. 

‘Pretty unfair fight boys. How ‘bout I join the party?’ The girl peeked out between her bleeding arms at the sound of his voice, her brown eyes widening. The drowner nearest him let out a screeching, hissing noise then leapt straight for his neck. With one deft, well practiced movement, Lambert raised his sword and brought it slashing down on the monster, mid-flight. It cleaved the scaly body from shoulder to hip, slicing it diagonally in half. There was a brief pause before the other three, let out a horrendous clamour before rushing him at once. 

The witcher tried to back off from the group attack, but the sticky mud held him at a disadvantage. One of the drowners managed to flank him, cutting off his escape from the others who lunged at him, razor sharp claws extended. _Shit._ He thought, as he dodged one but caught the other near where his hastily stitched leshen wound was. He could feel the hot blood seeping from the cut but had no time to breath, let alone drink a shot of swallow. 

Ducking down, he swivelled as best he could in the muddy circumstances, and straightened up behind the drowners. With two quick swings, he cut across their backs, splitting the slimy skin open. A smell like rotting fish hit his nose and he had to keep from gagging as he aimed another two swipes at the drowners’ legs, cutting them off at the knees. They dropped in height, screeching bloody murder, and the witcher silenced them with a clean decapitation each. 

He brought his sword up into a defensive position immediately, his eyes searching for the last drowner. A small frown creased his forehead as he found the place it had been vacant, then an ear-splitting scream from behind caught his attention. Turning on the spot he saw the last drowner had snuck past him whilst he had been dealing with its brothers, and was now slashing at the girl still lying in the muddy waters. 

‘I don’t think so motherfucker.’ He spat, throwing himself at the monster. With all his force he rammed his shoulder into the drowner, sending it flying backwards with a splash. Placing himself between it and the girl, he watched with grim satisfaction as the creature hissed in fury as it tried to right itself. He took a step towards it as it finally sprang to its webbed feet, its yellow teeth bared in an angry snarl. With a smug smile, Lambert held his hand out and shot a blast of Igni straight into the monster’s face. It screamed in agony as he continued the relentless stream of fire, melting the flesh on its skull. After struggling in vain against the barrage of flames, the drowner’s screams faded into a pathetic gurgling, before it fell backwards into the murky water. 

The smell of burning meat added to the already pungent scents of the swamp, but Lambert couldn’t help feeling elated at the win. That had been fun. Sheathing his sword, he turned to assess the damage the girl had taken. She was sat in the same position, her arms held above her head, her eyes wide with fear as she looked at him.

The witcher held up his hands to show they were empty and gave her an approximation of a friendly smile. Or the best he could hope to achieve.

‘It’s okay. You’re safe now.’ The girl lowered her arms slightly and he could see now she was young, probably about eighteen, nineteen. She had honey blond hair that was darkened by the mud caked in it, and a sweet, heart shaped face. Lambert noticed with a regretful pang that there was a deep gash across one of her cheeks, just below her right eye. She had been lucky not to be blinded but that would mean little when it scarred over, marring that fresh, maiden beauty she had. 

He took a step towards her and felt a bitter twist in his chest as she flinched back. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’ He said, maybe a little too sharply, but he _had_ just rescued her for fuck’s sake. The least she could do was not act like he was another drowner. The girl blinked up at him with those big, doe eyes of hers, then she did something worse than flinching. Her lip began to quiver and great big, watery tears began to spill over, running down her rosy cheeks. 

‘Oh no. Come on now. Don’t cry, I’ve got to get you somewhere safe so we can look at those wounds.’ He closed the distance so he was standing over her. Without waiting for her permission, he bent down and scooped her up from the cold, filthy water. Thankfully she didn’t try and fight him, instead choosing to wrap her bleeding arms around his neck and hide her tearful face in his shoulder. Lambert cleared his throat awkwardly as he held her trembling body against him. Being a witcher sometimes had its perks, but he was far from accepting a grateful damsel’s thanks just yet. He still had to get her out of here with his annoying, unpredictable cargo in tow. 

Speaking of which, he rotated around, trying to sniff out his horse and the demon girl through the dense smog. Just as he thought he caught a whiff of something, another distant scream reached him. This time it wasn’t a defenceless girl, it had been his horse, screaming in fright. There was a moment of suspenseful silence, where Lambert prayed his day wasn’t about to get infinitely worse. Then he heard the unmistakable blood chilling cry of a water hag somewhere in the mist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello, it's Wednesday! So here's another chapter as promised. Thanks as always for your kudos, they all mean the world to me. Just knowing you guys are reading makes my day. Hope you are all doing well and I'll leave you to read, review and enjoy! :)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Ellie jangled her shackles moodily. He had just upped and left her; tied to his horse in the middle of this rotten smelling swamp with no way to protect herself. True, giving a weapon to someone you were keeping as your prisoner wasn’t the smartest choice, but it wasn’t like she could go anywhere. She was completely at the witcher’s mercy since he had killed her again, depleting her strength even more, and dragged her out of the only place she knew in this bizarre new world. On top of that, he seemed to be the only one able to help her get back to her own world with what he had said. So why would she just run off. A little trust wouldn’t go amiss.

‘Does he always do this?’ She asked the horse, who didn’t appear to have a name. What kind of psycho didn’t name their horse? It turned its bay head to look at her, its dark eyes mournful. ‘Yeah, I thought so.’ She muttered. Straining her hearing she could make out the hissing things that had made Lambert stop; and if she really tried, she could hear the sound of a sword being drawn. Her hearing was good compared to a normal person’s, her eyesight too – although it was better when she was using her demon powers. It was her sense of smell that was second to none, and she used it now to try and discern what was happening.

In amongst the reeking stench of the swamp waters she could make out a rotten fish smell, coupled with salt water. The scent confused her as they were nowhere near the sea as far as she could tell, so she summarised it must belong to the creatures making the hissing sound. She could also make out the smell of a human girl, nineteen by the strength of her hormones, and injured. The rich, metallic tang of blood was all around her. Then there was the scent of her captor; a more mature vintage with that strange hint of spice mixed in. He was mingling with the rotten fish smell so she assumed he was now fighting them. She let out a sigh and shook her bonds again. Wondering idly if she had recovered enough to try and break them, but then again, her bid for some element of trust would go out of the window if he came back to find her with broken shackles. 

‘Well, this just plain sucks.’ She said, partly to herself but also to the horse. ‘You need a name. But that’s not my job. For now, I think I’ll just call you Horse.’ Horse stared at her blankly, his ears flicking towards her as she spoke. Ellie smiled, she had always loved animals. Even before she had become repellent to them. It seemed Horse didn’t mind however. 

Her nose suddenly wrinkled, stinging with an unfamiliar scent that was nothing to do with Lambert’s distant fight. Frowning, Ellie took a deeper breath, drawing the air over the sensitive olfactory gland in her nose. The smell of death, which accompanied pretty much every creature in this world, was strong. Sifting past it she got an overwhelming hit of stale water and peaty mud. There was also the hint of an amphibian of some kind about it. From what she had seen so far, she wouldn’t be surprised if a giant, man eating frog suddenly burst from the waters next to her. 

Swivelling her head, she tried to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from. It was hard to do with all the other competing scents and the fact she had absolutely no idea what it was she was smelling. It was only when the smell grew exponentially stronger and Horse’s ears abruptly flattened against his skull that her gut twisted in apprehension. 

‘Ummm, what is it buddy?’ Ellie asked, her voice wavering with barely concealed anxiety. Horse began to dance on the spot and she became away of the ground shifting beneath her feet. Looking down Ellie had just enough time to see lazy bubbles breaking around her ankles, before a gnarled, viciously clawed hand burst from the mud and made a grab for her. Horse let out a deafening scream of fright, and half reared, his eyes rolling in his head. Ellie skipped to the side so the hand grasped at thin air, having failed to grab its quarry, it shot back down into the mud with a loud sucking sound. 

‘Interesting.’ She said. Then her attention was firmly on Horse, who with a wicker of terror bolted off into the mists. Her eyes watched him gallop away then they snapped down to the rope tied around her shackles. ‘Very interesting.’ She commented before she was yanked violently off her feet, and dragged behind the spooked horse. Her mouth and nose were suddenly full of swamp muck, and instinctively she tried to spit it out, but with her face being dragged continually along the ground this proved harder to do than she would have liked. She couldn’t see, hear or smell and this made her feel very panicked indeed. 

Unable to stop Horse from galloping, Ellie tried to at least get her head out of the swamp so she could see again. Her hands were pulled straight out in front of her, so in the absence of them she drew her knees up to her chest and tried to find purchase. Unfortunately, the slippery mud that made up the majority of the swamp made this task near impossible but by some miracle Horse decided to run over a small rise in the land. An island of dry, hard packed dirt at that moment. Taking her chance, Ellie dug in her heels and forced herself up into a crouch. This freed up her face so she could see the horse still panicking in front of her, his head held high as he whinnied in terror.

‘Whoa, there Horse.’ She said around a mouthful of dirt. Horse seemed unwilling to listen so she decided to stop him by force. Widening her stance, she braced against the rope tying her to the runaway animal. It quickly pulled taunt and she had to put all of her strength and balance into remaining on her feet. Horse jerked to a halt as he met resistance and reared again, pawing at the air. Gritting her teeth, Ellie took hold of the rope and yank it. Locked in a tug of war with the horse she was relieved to see her strength was definitely improving. Not only was she holding her own, but she had managed to pull the struggling beast back a few paces. 

Unexpectedly, a horrific wail of anger sounded right behind her and Horse found a new lease of energy. Propelling himself forward, he practically ripped the rope from Ellie’s grasp. Lowering her position, she tensed her arms and tried to keep him still but Horse was having none of it. With one last scream of fright he rocketed off into the mists and in a desperate attempt to remain where she was, Ellie twisted, jerking the rope that bound them with all her strength. With a sharp snap the rope broke, and not expecting the heavy weight of the fleeing beast to disappear so suddenly she staggered back, falling face first into the swamp mud again. 

‘Urgh.’ She spat. Clawing at her face to get the worst of the mud off. Rising to her knees she took a moment to get her bearings. She had no idea where in the swamp she was now, and with both her captor and his mode of transport MIA she was unsure what to do next. She was just working through her limited options, sat in a stinking puddle of muddy water, when an entirely new problem reared its ugly head. Literally.

The thing that had made the noise, and presumably had made a grab for her leg before, rose from the muck like a corpse rising from its grave. With a spine tingling moan the thing crawled out of the mud and stood glaring at her with two glowing yellow eyes. The thing looked kind of like an old naked woman; its back hunched, its chest bare, with sagging breasts, its skin leathery and brown with a slight blueish tint. Its face however was more like a skull covered in a thin layer of wrinkled skin, its teeth exposed by the absence of any lips, revealing horrifically sharp, yellowing teeth. It had long greasy, black hair hanging down by its face like curtains and its hands were elongated, ending in wicked claws. 

As Ellie stared at it, it let out another screech of protest, its mouth opening to show a tongue that defied logic. It was long, impossibly long. It uncurled itself from the thing’s jaw like some kind of nightmare frog. So that was where the amphibian smell came from. It stood there, its tongue swaying as it glowered at the girl knelt in the mud. Ellie was about to stand and try and make a run for it when the thing spoke in an awful, rasping voice.

‘Myyyyy swaammmmp. Thiiiis isss myyyy swammmmp.’ 

She wobbled to her feet, her hands still shackled together, raised in surrender as the thing took a menacing step forwards, its clawed hands flexing. ‘Okay, okay. Your swamp, I get it. I was just leaving.’ As if to prove her point Ellie took a deliberate step backwards but the angry, naked frog lady followed.

‘Myyy swammmp. Get ouuut crosssbreeed.’ 

‘Hey now, there’s no need to start calling names. I’m trying to get out, just let me find my horse and I’ll be going.’ Ellie was now backing up steadily, her feet slipping on the slimy ground. Now naked frog lady was letting out that teeth grating screech again, its tongue lashing from side to side like a pissed off cat’s tail. 

‘Ah, shit.’ Ellie cursed as the frog lady rushed towards her. With her hands still bound there was no option but to try and run. However, this was easier said than done in the low visibility quagmire she found herself in. Feeling the adrenaline kick in, Ellie was just able to leap to the side in time to dodge the head on charge from the frog lady. The creature let out an angry hiss and rounded on her instantly. Ellie made another attempt to dance back from the thing’s now wildly swinging clawed hands but her footing was awful due to the soft, slippery ground she was on. One of her legs slipped one way and the other stubbornly refused to join it, opting instead to slide in the opposite direction. This was how Ellie found herself facing off against an unknown, frankly terrifying enemy whilst doing the splits in a swamp. 

Before she could persuade her legs that they really should be getting along at this moment in time, the angry naked frog lady flicked out its awful tongue and managed to wrap it securely around Ellie’s neck. 

‘Oh, brilliant.’ She croaked, as the slimy appendage tightened, an overwhelming feeling of nausea hitting her abruptly. The tongue was covered in a sticky mucus, and it had a strong bitter odour. It reminded her of almonds. _Poison_ , she internally groaned. With a rasping croak, the frog lady began pulling its prey towards it. Once again Ellie found the terrain not to her advantage as she pushed against the slick muddy ground with her bare feet. It was a good job she didn’t need to breath otherwise the grip this thing had on her wind pipe alone would have floored her. 

As it was she found herself being reeled in like a prize catch, the stinking, tooth filled maw in front of her opening wider as she approached. She was almost in range of the creature’s knife-like claws and as much as she knew they wouldn’t leave any lasting damage she still didn’t want to find out what it felt like to be sliced up by them. Shutting her eyes, she concentrated on releasing the hold on her demonic powers once more. She’d only had to use it in warning so far but this situation didn’t look like it was about to improve without turning into an all-out fight. It didn’t take long for the influx of power to spread through her tired limbs. She had been through a lot in the last few days and even using all her power she still wasn’t going to be at full strength. She was hopeful, however, it would be enough. 

Her eyes snapped open and her vision was noticeably improved. She could see the naked frog lady in nauseating detail now as she was pulled within a few feet of it. Bracing herself against the tongue lasso, she watched the swinging claws carefully. At the last moment Ellie relaxed her resistance, letting the frog lady win the battle of strength. She suddenly felt the ground fly out from under her as she was yanked with surprising speed towards the waiting claws of the creature. She felt her lip curl up over her teeth in a silent snarl as she hurtled towards her enemy. 

_Here I come._ She growled in her head as she brought her legs up directly in front of her. The frog lady’s sickly yellow eyes flicked down to her mud encrusted feet, just as she used her new momentum to slam them into its chest. The tongue around her throat instantly loosened as the thing staggered back a few paces. Its eyes rolling in its head. Not giving it a chance to recover, Ellie raised her hands over her head and brought them crashing down on the greasy haired skull of the creature. This time the tongue released her, sliding from her throat and retreating back to its owner. 

Ellie dropped to the ground, landing in a crouch. She furiously wiped at her face with her forearms, trying to dislodge as much of the mud and muck she could from her eyes. The frog lady shook its head angrily, trying to recover from its prey’s unexpected attack. 

‘Listen, monster to monster, can you please just stop. I’m having a really bad day.’ She pleaded, the frog lady narrowed its glowing eyes as if in understanding. 

‘My swaaaaaamp, keep out of myyyyy swaaaamp.’ 

‘Urgh, fine. Have it your way.’ The frog lady let out a cry of indignation, and Ellie responded with her own roar of challenge. Then the two charged head long at each other like a pair of territorial bulls. Whereas the creature from the swamp was more of a hack and slash kind of fighter, Ellie was a lot more strategic. She had always been, being smaller than the other demons she trained with.

_Remember speed is your asset kid. Speed and cunning. Use them to your advantage when faced with a bigger opponent._

Feeling the mud give way yet again beneath her feet, Ellie had an idea. Pushing all her momentum into her lower body she felt her bare soles slip from under her. Lowering into a crouch she encouraged her body to go with it. She slid, with spectacular style, under the creatures grasping hands and came up behind it. With a wolfish grin Ellie sensed her opening and launched herself at the frog lady’s back.

With a howl of rage the muddy monster tried to throw its hitchhiker. Twisting its body and slashing uselessly at the air with its claws. With her new vantage point Ellie raised her hands again, but this time hooked them over the frog lady’s head, shackles included. Pulling back, she tightened the chain around the creature’s neck and it let out a strangled gurgling. 

‘Will…you…just…quit…it’. Ellie growled. Riding the now bucking frog lady like a rodeo bronco. Mud splattered over and around them as they struggled together. It was hard to tell with all the muck in her eyes but Ellie was certain the clawed hands were slowing in their attacks. How much longer before this thing fell unconscious? Even with her added strength she could feel her grip beginning to weaken. She leant back with all her weight, hoping to end this fight quickly.

One moment Ellie was hanging onto a fairly pissed off monster, the next she was falling through the air towards her old friend the mud pile. With an infuriating splat she landed face first for the hundredth time in the swamp, frog lady nowhere to be seen. She looked around wildly, trying to figure out what had just happened when familiar lazy bubbles started to break on the water surface nearby. 

‘You tricksy little-‘ Ellie said, as the frog lady erupted from the swamp a safe distance from her and her shackles. It had disappeared into the water to escape being strangled. Very clever. 

‘Two can play at that game.’ Ellie clambered to her feet again. Her entire body now coated in the filth of the swamp. She felt like she was as much of a mud monster as the one she was facing off against. The frog lady whipped out its tongue and Ellie parried it with her shackled hands. ‘No you don’t.’ She muttered. But no sooner had the tongue retracted than the creature sent it out again, this time going for Ellie twice. The first hit she deflected again but the second she made a grab for the poison coated tongue. Gripping the end of it tightly in both hands, the frog lady let out a scream of pain. Then with gritted teeth and waning patience Ellie began to pull the creature towards her, hand over hand. 

This time it was frog lady’s turn to slip and slide desperately in the mud as it was reeled in by what had been its prey not moments before. With grim determination and an even grimmer expression Ellie yanked on the tongue, feeling the poison seeping into her skin. Nausea rolled in her belly but she kept it at bay. Only a few more feet.

She didn’t have long left before her body gave out, her power was draining fast. Speed was her forte not strength. As she pulled the creature the last few meters, the clawed hands she had been so keen to avoid struck again. This time she was too preoccupied with hanging on to the lashing tongue to dodge them. They hooked around her back, raking across her flimsy cotton vest, slicing through it and her flesh with ease. With a loud hiss of pain, Ellie grimaced. She felt the claws lodge themselves into her sides, holding her in place. Unable to move, panic set in. Ellie felt her demon side begin to thrash and rage at being cornered. Weakened by the fight and the past few days, she could do little to stop it and with a thunderous snarl she jerked her head forward, sinking her sharp canines into the shoulder of the monster instinctively.

Frog lady let out another screech of pain. Ellie could taste its panic flowing through its blood; along with mud and stagnant water. Letting out a determined growl she tightened the grip she had with her mouth. The creature doing the same with its claws. It was in this bizarre lovers’ embrace that the witcher Lambert found them. Jogging through the swamp mist, a pale looking girl in his arms. 

‘What the fuck is going on?’ He asked, his cat-like eyes wide with disbelief. Ellie heard his arrogant voice as if through a tunnel, but it was enough to bring her to her senses. Disengaging herself from the frog lady, she spat out the mixture of monster blood and her own venom, looking over her shoulder at the man.

‘She started it.’ Was all she could manage by way of explanation, at what must be a very strange sight indeed. 

‘Sure.’ He said, his eyebrows raised. He shifted the girl in his arms. She tightened the grip on his neck, her eyes round saucers of fear. ‘So, are you finishing it as well or do you need my help?’

Before Ellie could answer his sarcastic remark, the frog lady made an odd choking sound, and withdrew its claws from her back. Stepping back Ellie watched, fascinated as the creature she had fought so bitterly retreated several paces, clutching a clawed hand to its shoulder. It hissed and coughed as it glared resolutely at the three of them. 

‘Wiiitchherrr. Leeeeave. Leeeeave my swaaaamp.’ Ellie turned to Lambert, shrugging. 

‘She seems pretty convinced this is her swamp.’ The witcher gave her an irritated sideways look before fixing his attention back on the monster.

‘Don’t worry. We’re going now.’ 

The frog lady held up a bloodied claw, pointing it at Ellie. ‘Take the crooossssbreeed.’ It hissed. This time he gave Ellie a very long look indeed.

‘Sure, I’ll get right on that. Come on Blue eyes.’ He muttered to her as he turned and started walking off through the mist. Ellie shot him a worried look then glanced at the frog lady. It was still nursing its shoulder and Ellie was just able to make out underneath all the filth a faint spiderweb of blackened veins, as if it had been poisoned. 

‘Sorry.’ She murmured to the creature, yellow eyes flashed as it hissed loudly at her, then the frog lady began choking again. With a regretful look Ellie walked away, following her captor into the smog.

‘Your horse ran off. I don’t know which way he went.’ She said, jogging to catch up with Lambert. He didn’t look at her as he replied.

‘He found me not long ago. Trained him to run back to me when spooked. Kind of essential in my line of work.’ She supressed the urge to roll her eyes at his snarky tone. 

‘Who’s the girl?’ She changed the subject, not wanting to start a fight after all she’d just been through.

‘I saved her from drowners. Need to get her out of this swamp.’ He said, curt and to the point again. The little blond-haired girl, clinging to the witcher as if she were drowning and he was a life vest looked down at the mud covered, wild looking girl and shrank back further into his embrace. Ellie’s eyebrows shot up as she tried a friendly smile but this only proved to make the situation worse. Her bared teeth provoked a terrified squeak from the girl and she buried her head into Lambert’s shoulder.

‘Will you stop scaring her. Girl’s been through a lot.’ He snapped, speeding up to walk ahead.

‘And I haven’t?’ Ellie grumbled behind him, feeling a twist of jealously at the way he was treating the girl. It wasn’t as if she wanted him to carry her, absolutely not, but the tender way he was holding her, coupled with his vehement defence of her wellbeing made her gut knot uncomfortably. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to her or treated her that way. 

They finished the short walk in silence. Ellie doing her best to not let her petty grievances turn into a childish tantrum. But she was tired and dirty and the prospect of being pulled behind Horse again made her grumpier still. Speaking of the devil, the dozing profile of the witcher’s horse materialised in front of them. _Thanks for nothing buddy._ Ellie thought bitterly. 

Acting as if she wasn’t there Lambert gently hoisted the blond girl into the saddle, positioning her so he could mount up behind her without jostling her injured arms. He spoke to her in a soft voice, nothing like the abrasive tone she was used to, but the girl still looked at him with a tense fear. Turning his attention back to her he folded his arms, his expression displeased. ‘Turn around.’ He ordered her in his normal abrasive manner.

‘Why?’ She replied testily.

‘Because I saw that hag’s claws in your back and I can’t let you both ride with me. I want to see how bad your injuries are.’ Jutting out her jaw defiantly, Ellie slowly turned. Her cheeks heating up as she faced away from the witcher. What a sight she must be. Her clothes falling off her in tatters, mud covering every inch of her, wrestling swamp monsters when he wasn’t looking. No wonder he preferred the blond girl’s company. She was just a thorn in his side. 

She flinched slightly as she felt his gloved fingers brushing against her exposed back. ‘As I thought.’ He muttered. ‘Completely healed. You can walk.’ 

With that he pulled himself into the saddle and adjusted his arms around the girl, gathering his reins. Ellie looked up at him questioningly. Then glanced down at her shackled but rope-less hands. 

‘Aren’t you going to tie me up.’

Lambert stared down at her with those surreal amber eyes of his. A mocking look on his face. ‘Luckily for you that was my only length of rope. Besides, if you were going to escape you would have done it when the hag spooked my horse. Think I can trust you to walk behind me.’ 

‘But not enough to remove these?’ She asked hopefully, holding up her bound hands.

His mouth curved up into a smirk. ‘Nope, not enough to remove those.’ He clicked his tongue and Horse obediently set off. Ellie glared at his retreating back but right before he disappeared into the mist she tamely followed on behind.

* * *

‘There, that should help the worst of it.’ Lambert said, sitting back to admire his handy work. The blond girl looked up at him with her big, doe eyes, her arms now covered in a tincture of alcohest and celladine, wrapped in clean bandages. She was still pale and hadn’t said a word since he had scooped her up from the swamp, but at least the bleeding on her arms had stopped. 

He packed away his things, eager to continue on to some form of civilization. They had stopped temporarily in a small copse of trees on the outskirts of the swamp. Mercifully, they had been relatively near the end of it when all the drama had occurred, so had only travelled another hour before finding this patch of dry land. As he put the last of his bandages away he felt a light touch on his arm. He looked up sharply to see the girl was smiling timidly at him. 

‘Thank you master witcher.’ She whispered, he gave her a grin in return, flourishing his hand in a mock bow. Lambert watched hungrily as her cheeks turned an attractive shade of pink. 

‘All in a day’s work m’lady. Now, if you’d be so kind as to give me directions to your home.’ The girl bit her lip, her eyes darting to the floor. 

‘I live in Ursten.’ Lambert scratched his beard. That was about half a day’s ride. How had this frail slip of nothing managed to end up in the swamps with no horse? He didn’t have time to puzzle it out and seeing as the sun was already sinking he wanted to be on his way.

‘I’ll take you home.’ He said, straightening up and helping the girl to her feet. The pink in her cheeks deepened as he held her hand. Hmmm, maybe there would be time to talk once they got to Ursten. It had been a while since any woman had given him the time of day, let alone acted like he was Eyck of Denesle. 

Hoisting her back up into the saddle Lambert looked around for his other charge. He found her peeling dried mud off her skin whilst slumped against a tree some distance away. With a weary sigh the witcher left the pretty blond girl safe on his horse and waked over to the muddy, bat shit crazy demon. 

‘We need to keep moving.’ He said, staring down at her, his arms folded. She stopped picking off a large lump of mud and looked up at him. Her eyes were dangerously dark, a blue the colour of the sky at midnight. Reflexively the witcher reached for his medallion but it was still, hanging limp around his neck. 

‘Talking to me again? That’s nice.’ She said, her tone sour. She made no move to get up, instead continuing her task of shedding herself of the layers of swamp filth that covered her. Lambert’s jaw tightened at her attitude. 

‘I don’t have time for this. Get up. We’re moving on.’ Maybe his voice could have been less abrupt, but after witnessing the girl fighting a water hag with just her bare hands and teeth, he felt she could handle a bit of rudeness. Flicking the clod of dirt, she had freed into the bushes nearby Blue eyes slowly stood. Her eyes not meeting his. He should have left it there and continued their trek, but there was something about the set of her shoulders and the way she kept her face downturned that bothered the witcher. Suddenly, something the water hag had said came back to him and before he had chance to stop himself his mouth was already moving. 

‘What did it mean when it called you a crossbreed?’ 

Her head snapped up sharply. Her expression guarded. ‘I don’t know. Why do people call you a mutant? The thing lived in the mud probably eating frogs. Could’ve just been an insult to get me to leave its precious swamp.’ 

Lambert narrowed his eyes. ‘Could’ve. Except water hags generally don’t speak unless something bothers them enough. And they have exceptional perception when it comes to other monsters. Sounds to me like you scared that hag enough for it to defend its territory. My question is, why did it call you a _cross_ breed?’ 

Blue eyes glowered at him. ‘Oh, so it’s my fault I got set upon by that mad thing? I was only doing what you told me.’ 

‘Not what I asked.’ He pushed, scratching his beard again. Seemed he had hit a nerve. He was good at that. 

The demon girl lowered her head, her posture seeming to shrink before him as he felt her give in. He heard her breathe in deeply, then in a small, barely audible voice she answered.

‘I’m half human.’ 

Lambert’s arms fell limply to his sides, before a rush of anger hit him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’ He practically yelled. Her slumped posture shot to attention as she levelled her very dark gaze on him. 

‘Would it have mattered?’ 

‘Yes. Of course.’ 

She scoffed, her eyes rolling as she stood toe to toe with him. ‘People just hear the demon part. They don’t tend to care about the equation.’ 

Lambert ran a frustrated hand through his hair. ‘Well, I do.’

‘Why?’ She spat back at him. ‘So you could’ve treated me better? Get a grip. In the eyes of people, a demon’s a demon, doesn’t matter how human I was, once upon a time.’

The witcher felt that uncomfortable pang of guilt twist in his chest like a knife. She _had_ been human. Meaning someone or something had happened to make her this way. He lowered his hand slowly, his voice softening as he tried to make it right.

‘That’s not true.’ Blue eyes tilted her head at his sudden change in mood. Her eyes, although still dark, were more blue than black now. ‘The equation matters. It matters a lot.’ 

Lambert gave her a lingering look before he couldn’t take the expression of bewildered confusion on her face any longer. Turning on his heels he began walking back to his horse. ‘You coming?’ He shot over his shoulder. 

That conversation had got out of hand fast and he was struggling to come to terms with what it meant. He was a witcher. He killed monsters. But the more he found out about this mysterious girl, the harder he found it to keep her in that category. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, here we are. Thanks for everyone reading this and commenting. I am now on Chapter 13 writing wise, so super far ahead. There are some chapters I cannot wait for you guys to read. :). Anyway, hope everyone is safe and happy, please read, review and enjoy! :)


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Ursten was a small village with a large population. Even as they approached the village there were a number of tents and campfires set up along the road. The people gathered around them watched the witcher and his entourage pass with empty eyes, their clothes and gaunt faces painted them as war refugees. Lambert didn't say anything as he rode past, he had seen many like them whilst walking the Path. War affected everyone, but the poor most of all. It was a fact of life. Blue eyes, however didn't know where to look, taking in all the pathetic souls as she walked beside his horse. She didn't speak or look up at him with those disconcerting eyes of hers, but he could almost feel the shock and distress coming from her.

The witcher kept his gaze firmly on the road ahead. Ignoring the plight of the refugees and complicated girl by his side. Ever since her revelation after the swamp Lambert had been wrestling with his conscience. Something he tried to avoid at all costs. A witcher with a noisy conscience was like a merchant with a heart of gold. It wasn't good for business.

A head lolled against his chest drawing him out of his moody thoughts. He glanced down at the blonde girl who had fallen asleep almost as soon as they had set off. Lambert shifted in the saddle slightly, enjoying the feeling of her small, warm body against his chest. He could smell the swamp in her hair, but underneath it was the faintest hint of lavender. The witcher sat a little straighter as the refugee camps receded and the first houses of Ursten passed them. It was nice for once to feel appreciated by someone for his actions. Women usually kept a distance from him unless he paid them to get closer. This rosy cheeked maiden was a breath of clean summer air.

A thought crossed his mind as he came upon the signpost announcing this was Ursten. He tugged gently on the reins, being careful not to jostle the girl in his arms as he brought his horse to a halt. The demon, or he supposed half demon now, took a few more steps before stopping and looking up at him in confusion.

'What's wrong?' She asked, that little crease wrinkling her brow.

Lambert tried to think of a tactical way to phrase his errant thought, but it wasn't a habit he was used to. 'I think you should stay away from the village.' He finally said bluntly.

She tilted her head slowly, the crease deepening into a furrow. 'Why?'

'Because these are simple peasants and I can't risk another scene like the last one.'

She folded her arms, awkwardly considering the shackles but it still added to her pissed off demeanour. 'The last time you brought me into a village you were trying to hand me over to be tortured and incarcerated. This time no one knows what I am.'

Lambert blew out an irritated breath. Gods this girl knew how to argue. 'I would still prefer not to risk it. Look, I'll set up a camp for you far enough away that no one will disturb you.'

'Cheers.' She replied sarcastically.

His irritation began to morph into anger. 'This isn't a discussion. You're going to stay out here and wait for me.'

'Absolutely, sir. Purgatory forbid I sully your spotless image amongst the gentry.' It was Lambert's turn to frown down at her in confusion. What had she said? Purgatory? Was that some kind of curse word where she was from?

'Exactly.' He said eventually, deciding to shepherd her away from the village before she could argue anymore. He led them off the road until he found a secluded glade surrounded by trees.

'This'll do.' He muttered, reluctantly disturbing the sleeping girl to dismount. She groaned as he lifted her down from the saddle. 'Hey, wake up now.'

'Am I home?' She asked, rubbing her eyes.

'Nearly. I just need to take care of something first.' He set her down gently and left her to set up a campfire and tether his horse. She stood obediently watching him, her bandaged arms clasped in front of her. Lambert could feel her eyes on him, along with a much harder gaze off in the shadows. Straightening up from his task of lighting the fire his attention was automatically drawn to the dark haired, filthy, blue eyed demon.

'Stay here.' He said, walking over to her.

Her mouth pulled into a thin line. 'Fine. I'll stay. You go enjoy yourself.'

'What does that mean?' He bit back.

She leant to one side to look pointedly at the waiting blonde girl. 'Oh, I don't know. Nothing I guess.'

For some reason her insinuation riled him enormously. Never mind that there was some truth in her words, it was after all why he was risking leaving her here alone. But her bitter tone and fiery glare made him want to stand here arguing with her until he won. The idea was nonsensical, not to mention time consuming. He wanted to get the other girl back to the village and see if anyone was grateful enough to give him a reward, and maybe an ale and a bath wouldn't go amiss.

'Nothing sounds about right.' He said, already turning to go. 'I'll be back by morning at the latest.'

'Morning? What am I supposed to do until then?' Her outraged cry echoed across the glade.

'Stay out of trouble.' He shot back, guiding the doe eyed girl back to the village.

'Is your friend going to be okay?' She asked, in a soft voice. Lambert snorted.

'She's not my friend, and she seems to be able to handle herself.' The girl looked away, her face paling.

'Yes, I saw that.' The witcher smirked. He walked in silence until they reached the entrance to Ursten again. The girl looked up at him, her expression fearful.

'Master witcher?'

'Hmm?'

'Will you stay with me a little while longer?' He looked down at her, his eyebrows raised.

'Well, yeah. I wasn't going to just dump you and go. I may be an arsehole, but even I have standards. Where do you live?' The look of relief on her face gave Lambert a warm sense of satisfaction. He almost felt like the White wolf himself in her eyes.

'My house is down the main street, past the tavern.'

'Perfect.' Lambert said, already dreaming of the ale he'd drink on his way back. After the last few days he definitely needed it. The sun was setting as they made their way through the village. Groups of refugees were gathered around what must have been the Ealdorman's house. A few mercenary looking men were handing out rations to them. As they passed one of the men looked up, his eyes locking on the girl next to Lambert. He grinned, a nasty lecherous grin and he felt the girl flinch into his side. The mercenary's gaze slid up to the witcher and the grin vanished instantly. Lambert narrowed his eyes to slits as he assessed the man. He knew the type; power hungry bullies that preyed on the weak. He loathed men like that.

'You know that man?' He asked the girl.

'N-no. He works for Ealdorman Fife. My ma says they're all thugs for hire, I try and stay away from them.' Something in the tremble of her voice made him extra vigilant. He kept his eyes locked on the grinning man as they continued on down the road.

'Good advice.' He said. 'By the way, I never asked. What's your name?'

Blondie blinked up at him. Her cheeks turning rosy again. 'It's Theadora.'

'Very pretty. Suits you.' He replied, with a smile. Her cheeks deepened in colour.

'Are all witchers as charming as you?' Lambert had to stop from laughing full in her pretty face.

'I can say _absolutely_ not. In fact, you're in the minority if you find _me_ charming.' Theadora averted her eyes. Then a loud clamour drew both their attention.

'Thea! My baby! Thank Melitele!' A woman was barrelling towards them, her arms thrown wide. Theadora let out a matching squeal and ran for the charging woman.

'Ma! I'm back!' Thea's mother enveloped her in a hug, rocking the small blonde girl in her embrace. A man came up behind them, his grey bearded face split into a wide smile.

'Da!' Thea squealed and he disappeared into the family hug. Lambert cleared his throat awkwardly, never sure what to do when confronted with displays of familiar affection. He hadn't seen much of it in his life, especially when he had been a boy. Thea turned her golden head to look at him.

'Ma, da. This witcher saved me. If he hadn't appeared then I would've been eaten by swamp monsters.' The three of them detached, the two parents smiling nervously at him. The father bowed, his balding head nearly touching the floor, while the mother stayed behind him, wringing her hands.

'Master witcher, I thank ye. Truly, there is nothing I can give that will repay you for bringing my daughter back.' Lambert folded his arms, raising one eyebrow. Thea's father paled slightly. 'But of course, I can probably think of something. We don't have much, but could I tempt you to a mug of ale in the tavern?'

If Lambert was being honest he would have preferred the gold, but his mouth was dry and his limbs were tired, and the thought of having his tab covered by a fearful, willing benefactor was extremely attractive.

'Sure, why not. I'll warn you now, all this saving of daughters has made me really thirsty.' Thea's father winced, but his smile remained in place.

'I wouldn't expect anything else from a strapping witcher like you. Come Theadora, we will toast your safe return with your rescuer.' The man slapped Lambert's shoulder good-heartedly. Usually he would have broken the man's hand for that, but with Theadora's jubilant response to spending more time with him he forgot to get mad at the old bastard. Yeah, ale wasn't as good as a fat coin purse, but being actually treated with respect for a job well done was worth more than both.

'Lead the way.' He said with a smirk. As the happy family began walking towards Ursten's tavern with Lambert in tow, a group of mercenaries passed them in the street. Several things happened at once; two noticed Theadora and nudged one another, laughing and wolf whistling. Thea herself leapt away from them, her face terrified as one made a grab for her, leering. Lambert was between the sweating oaf and the girl in a heartbeat, the mercenary blinking owlishly in shock as he grabbed the offending hand and twisted it painfully behind the man's back.

'Ow! 'ere! What gives? Let me go you freak!' The man bellowed, his friends moving to draw their weapons but a steely look from the witcher stilled their twitching hands.

'I think you owe the lady an apology.' Lambert said in an icy voice. The mercenaries glanced at one another, then burst into loud, raucous laughter.

'You 'ear that Mikels. He called her a lady.'

'I did, not much of anything ladylike about that one anymore.'

'He is a mutant, whores' are all they can get.'

Lambert's grip tightened on their buddy and he let out a yelp. His friends grew quiet pretty quick. 'I suggest you shut your fat gobs and piss off, if you know what's fucking good for you.' He pushed on the mercenary he had pinned, sending him stumbling into his group of slack jawed mates.

'Pretty bold of yer witcher. Six against one ain't good odds.'

Lambert took a step towards the men, his mouth tilting up into a nasty grin when they shuffled back as one. 'Willing to risk it. Think I'd take a few of you low lives out before you got a hit on me.' The tension was building between the men, he flexed his fingers in his gauntlet, ready to go for his steel sword at the first sign of aggression. But before the fight could break out, Thea's father stepped between them.

'Good men, come now. This is no way to behave. Master witcher, I'm sure Fife's men meant nothing by what they said. They were just japing around.' His voice had the high note of fear in it. His eyes darting furtively between the men.

The one they had called Mikels, an ugly, tall brute of a man, wearing a rough-hewn iron chest plate and rusted chain mail, grinned at the old man.

'That's right Jonus. We was japing. Nothing wrong with that is there… _witcher_.' Lambert really didn't like the way he said that, but causing a massacre in a village he had only just entered wasn't going to get him an ale.

'Fine.' He muttered, relaxing his stance. The mercenaries copied, the tension dissipating in an instant. With one last murderous glance at the still grinning Mikels, Lambert turned and began to walk away. Theadora looked up at him with wide eyes as she walked by his side. There was still a rosy tint to her cheeks, but there was a definite pallor to the rest of her face. She was also trembling noticeably through her thin, mud covered dress, and not from the early autumn cold. As they headed towards the tavern, the mercenaries moved on too. Getting a reasonable distance away they began to talk amongst themselves and Lambert really wished right then he didn't have superhuman hearing.

'Surpised to see that little wench back here. Didn't we dump her in the fucking swamp after we were done playing?'

'Aye, we did. But that disgusting mutant obviously picked her up.'

'Well, she won't talk. I said if she did we'd slit her family's throats. Of course, I thought she was drowner bait by then but I think the threat still stands.'

'Nevermind, we going to the camps tonight?'

'Yeah, Borkins said there was some prime meat that needed tenderising there.' The group burst out laughing again, the sound of it making Lambert grit his teeth. So that was how Theadora had ended up in that festering hell hole being ravaged by drowners. He felt his fists clench as he walked silently beside her family, unable and unwilling to reveal what he had just learnt.

He would have his drink with them, not cause a scene. But when he was done he'd find those cock suckers and make them pay for what they had done. He didn't usually go in for the vigilante shit that Geralt liked, but every once in a while, it was good to put down some real fucking monsters.

* * *

Ellie sat by the fire; her legs crossed, her bound hands resting ideally on them. The sky had grown dark since Lambert had left her here to wait for him…again, and the stars dusted the great violet, blue expanse like scattered glitter. She found herself looking up at the night sky, thinking of her home. Or at least the closest thing she had to a home nowadays. How long had it been since she was last in Purgatory? She had been dealing with so many rabid demons of late that she couldn't remember the last time she had seen the demon city. Her thoughts drifted to her friends and she wondered if they missed her. She brushed at her knee absentmindedly. The worst of the swamp mud had gone now, but her skin still felt stiff with dirt and her clothes were more like stinking rags now. What she wouldn't give for a shower. But she guessed the chances of hot running water in this world were slim to none.

Ellie sighed and looked over at Horse who was nose deep in the sweet meadow grass of the glade. His soft munching and the melodious chirping of crickets was all she could hear over the crackling of the fire Lambert had left her with. At least he'd done that much she supposed, but while she was sat in the middle of nowhere with a horse for company, he was off with that blonde girl and probably a nice soft bed. She tried not to think of those two things occupying the same sentence and then came up with the much more disturbing thought of why did she care? So, what if he was off with that girl. He had been nothing but an arsehole to her since they'd met. But every time he left her Ellie felt a niggling, tug in her gut telling her to follow him.

'Maybe I should try and sleep.' She grumbled, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. Horse briefly looked up, staring at her with his mournful eyes. 'Don't know what you're looking at traitor. Leaving me for dead in that swamp. What kind of monster hunter's horse runs away from monsters?'

He looked at her blankly for a moment, then blew out a snort and returned to his grass. 'Yeah, that's what I thought.' Ellie said.

 _Talking to a horse Eleanor, sad._ She thought to herself. Her eyes drifting back up to the sky. If only she could just sleep on command, it would make this waiting malarkey bearable. Sadly, her ability to drift into an untroubled unconsciousness had been taken away with her humanity. Sleep was now something she did only on rare occasions, when she was seriously injured or relaxed. Two things that didn't tend to happen often. Closing her eyes, she did her best to let the slow passing of time sweep past her. It wasn't exactly like sleep, but it was better than nothing.

It was in this weird, half meditating state that she heard the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps through the trees. Someone was breathing heavily, their high pitched voice coming out in broken sobs as they ran. They were being chased by six other pairs of feet, heavier, yet faster than the first. Ellie automatically scented the air in the direction the sound was coming from. One young girl, twenty, and six older men. All well-built, sweaty, wearing heavy, used armour. She could smell dried blood from many different sources on them. Fighters. A pre-emptive shiver of revulsion ran up Ellie's spine as she heard the pursuit heading towards her. Whatever these men were chasing this girl for, she imagined it wasn't because she'd broken the law.

She was still sat with her knees drawn up by the fire when the girl finally broke through the ring of trees, and came tumbling into the glade. She landed on her hands and knees, her face sweaty and flushed from running, her dark hair wild, her eyes equally so. They locked onto Ellie and with clumsy, exhaustion heavy limbs she clawed her way over to her.

'Please…help me.' She panted. Falling down to crouch behind her just as her pursers burst into the clearing. There were six of them, just as she'd smelt. They all staggered to a halt as they realised one more person had been added to their party. There was a brief moment of shock on their grime covered faces before they clocked it was just another girl, and they began guffawing and elbowing each other.

The girl behind Ellie whimpered as she placed her hands on the demon girl's shoulders, peering round at the men now leering at them both.

'Well, well, what 'ave we here?' One of them said, his speech slightly slurred from drink. Now they were closer Ellie could smell liquor on all of them, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

'Looks like another little hen to add to our coop Mikels.' Another replied, a fat pink tongue darting out to run over already wet lips. Ellie's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

'Leave us alone!' The girl behind Ellie shouted, her voice breaking with fear. The men only laughed louder. Deciding that Ellie wasn't a threat they advanced into the glade, spreading out as they did to cut off their escape.

'Not sure about this one. She looks like she was raised by water hags.' One of them said, giving her an assessing look.

'Not to mention she got shackles on.'

The largest one they had called Mikels shot them both a look. 'She's still a wench. Filthy or not. And if she's bound then she's probably not going to be missed.'

The girl cowering behind her began to cry, her sobs gradually turning into screams as the men closed in.

'Now, now. None of that. Screaming ain't going to help you bitch.' One of them spat, his hand already pulling at the strings of his britches. Ellie felt a red-hot poker of rage insert itself down her spine as she glared up at the man.

'No, but I will.' She said in a deadly voice. The men looked taken aback for a moment before howling with laughter again.

'The water hag talks.' Mikels said, his eyes glinting nastily as he advanced, towering over them both. 'Listen, I'm sorry you got involved in this but its best if you don't put up a fight.' Ellie shrugged off the other girl's hands gently and rose slowly to her feet, until she was chin height to the man in front of her.

'I'll give you one chance to turn around and leave us alone.' She spoke slowly and deliberately, as if talking to simpletons. Mikels grinning face fell and he turned an interesting shade of puce.

'She thinks she can take on all of us.'

'Shut her up Mikels.'

'We want our fun now.'

Mikels lowered his head so it was inches from hers, his breath reeking of booze. 'I'll teach you to get in my way hag.' He snarled, and pushed Ellie hard so she fell backwards over the other cowering girl.

'Are you okay?' The snivelling girl asked, her eyes wide with fear as she untangled her limbs from Ellie's.

'Fine.' She replied, her voice terse. Her eyes never left Mikels as, spurred on from his act of dominance, he bent down and grabbed the other girl by her throat lifting her to her feet. She let out a strangled cry of pain, Mikels practically lifting her off the ground his grip was so strong.

'I suggest you don't give us the same amount of cheek wench.' He said, tossing her like a sack of grain towards his grinning friends. The loud thud she made when she hit the ground at their feet made Ellie wince, and the men fell on her like a pack of rabid dogs.

In an instant she was on her feet, her rage burning through her like a petrol fuelled fire. A low, menacing growl slipped between her teeth but Mikels was laughing so hard at the horrendous scene in front of him that he didn't notice. Glancing back at her, his brow furrowed in annoyance seeing the filthy girl back on her feet, her defiant expression only intensified rather than subdued.

'Want another taste do you? Where were we?' He said, taking a few steps towards her. Ellie didn't need to bother manually releasing her power this time, it was all but brimming over as the rage burnt through her veins. With one jerking movement of her hands, she shattered the chain holding her hands together as if it were made of nothing but glass. Mikels had just enough time to register the change in circumstances before Ellie had closed the remaining distance between them and grabbed his throat with one hand. His eyes popped as she closed off his air supply, lifting him easily off the ground so his feet brushed the grass.

'About here I think.' She said, her voice deadly as sharpened steel. Mikels' face managed to pale and turn a funny shade of purple at the same time. The latter because of the lack of oxygen now reaching his brain, and the former because he was now looking into the flat black eyes of a monster. Its expression livid, its grip unnaturally strong. He clawed uselessly at her hand, trying to break free but Ellie barely felt his efforts.

With an angry snarl, she launched Mikels, full force, at his friends who were attempting to tear the dress off the screaming girl in their midst. Her cries of panic were joined by their comrades as Mikels flew through the air, colliding with three of them in a satisfying crash of metal and heavy bodies. Four of them fell to the floor in a heap and the other two halted in their assault of the girl.

Ellie rolled her shoulder. Despite his size, she had found it relatively easy to fling him one handed across the glade. The men gawked in disbelief at the transformed girl now staring them down with terrifying eyes. Mikels, the one she assumed was their leader, managed to right himself. He drew a dagger from his belt, and without missing a beat his friends drew their own concealed weapons.

Ellie lowered into a crouch. 'Good. I was afraid this wasn't going to be a fair fight.' She said, before launching herself at them.

In the space of a couple of seconds she took out two of the men by kicking their unarmoured legs so they twisted unnaturally. She heard the snap of bones giving way as they crumpled to the floor, howling in pain. One of their friends ran at her, a truncheon of sorts in his hand. She easily dodged his languid movement and jolted the weapon from his grasp, using it to knock both him and the two she had downed unconscious. Contrary to her last fight, these men were slow and obvious in their movements. She found it easy, even in her depleted state, to surpass their strength and speed with her own. The last man she had fought had been a witcher, blatantly not everyone in this world shared his super human abilities. The difference between him and these creeps was palpable.

The next two ran at her, one swinging a long sword, the other holding something that Ellie dimly remembered to be a mace. Both came at her from different directions at once. Taking a moment to assess, she made the decision that the mace would be harder to heal quickly from. With a deep breath she ducked under the mace's swing and came up, raising her arm to block the blade now sailing down towards her head. The sword bit into her forearm, cleaving the flesh in two but mercifully sparing the bone. She grimaced as the metal blade lodged itself in her arm but at least it hadn't been her skull.

With her free arm she used the truncheon she had swiped from the other man and threw it with practiced precision at the mace wielder's head. A resounding crack echoed throughout the glade and the man fell back, unconscious. Four down. Two to go.

The man holding the long sword extracted it with some difficulty from her arm. He looked down at it puzzled then with wide disbelieving eyes watched as the flesh he had just cut began to knit itself back together seamlessly. Wiping her hand over the wound, Ellie flicked the blood she had lost away, revealing flawless, untouched skin beneath.

'Devil.' The man whispered, his face turning white.

'Not quite.' She replied, her expression grim. The man let out a yelp of terror and turned to flee.

'What are you doing you coward?!' Mikels shouted as his comrade ran passed him. He ignored him, his armour clanking as he sprinted to the edge of the clearing.

'Oh, no you don't.' Ellie muttered darkly as she shot after him. His attire and weak human limbs no match for her, she easily cut him off. The man let out a scream and tried to about face, but this time Mikels was behind him and he shoved the man towards Ellie.

'Cut her bleeding head off. She can't heal that.' Shaking, but unable to escape in either direction now, the man faced the demon again. Lifting his long sword, he let out a cry of fear and anger as he charged at her, swinging the weapon wildly. Ellie felt that small tug near her abdomen, telling her where to move. She casually sidestepped the man's clumsy, flailing attack, letting him barrel passed her. Holding out a foot she tripped the man, sending him crashing to the ground, his sword flying out of his reach. Then with a quick, vicious kick to his head she put him out of the game with his four friends.

'Just you and me Mikels.' She said, levelling her gaze on the remaining ring leader. The girl that had started all this was still on the floor, her dress torn and her eyes wild as she watched the two of them.

'I'll make you pay for this bitch.' He spat, raising his dagger. Ellie didn't respond, instead she began to circle the man, choosing her target carefully. He was the one that had held the most authority amongst the group, so by her justice he would be the one to pay the most. Slowly, she prowled around him, like a wolf waiting for the right time to strike. Mikels wiped a hand across his brow. Good, let him sweat. She thought of the terror on the young girl's face as she had burst into the glade, desperate for help. Being hunted down like an animal, but the men pursuing her had less merciful things than killing on their minds.

Memories of her own feet running frantically over tangled roots and rustling dead leaves. A small hand clutched in hers as she dragged the boy behind her. Close behind, men shouting, running after them. Catching up. Bile rose in her throat and the rage that had provoked Ellie into this attack, flared at the memory. A deep growl ripped from her and she darted at Mikels.

He was slightly quicker than his friends, and better with a blade, she'd grant him that much at least. However, she was almost blind withy fury now and he had no time to strike before she had disarmed him of his only weapon and driven the blade of it deep into his knee joint. Mikels howled in pain, but instead of knocking him out cleanly Ellie twisted the dagger so the man crumpled around it, his hands grasping at the hilt.

With a jerk of her hand she withdrew the blade and then without missing a beat inserted it into the other leg. Mikels howled again, and now there were tears in his eyes. Twisting the blade slowly again, Ellie let his screams wash over her. With him on his ruined knees before her she extracted the dagger and made quick work cutting off his chest plate. It fell to the floor with a thud, she ripped his undershirt so his slightly portly, hair covered chest was exposed. Mikels blinked up at her with tear filled eyes, his face the same as a man walking to the gallows. But she wasn't about to kill him. Instead she took the dagger and carved a deep cross over where his heart was; making sure to let him feel every cut.

'Consider yourself marked, Mikels of Ursten. You belong to no tribe, you are an outcast from this moment on.' The words meant little to this world, nor did they really apply to a human, but the weight of them still settled on the man in front of her, as he stared up at her slack jawed. Sickened by the sight of his puffy, pathetic face she smashed the hilt of the dagger over his head, sending him into oblivion with his lowlife friends.

Ellie stood, with the dagger still clutched in her hand, breathing heavily. Gradually she felt the rage and adrenaline seep from her blood. Her more wild side drifting back into the shadows of herself. Looking around her she saw Horse stood exactly where he had been before all of that had happened, staring at her with a baleful expression.

'Fat lot of good you were again.' She said, he snorted and resumed eating. Shaking her head, she turned to look at the girl who was still frozen on the ground. She smiled down warmly at her and offered her hand. Minus the dagger.

'It's okay. They're all gone now.' The girl stared up at her, terror etched into every line of her face. Then a smooth voice broke the renewed silence of the night.

'That was fucking amazing.' Ellie brandished the dagger, making the girl shrink back further, as Lambert sauntered out of the cover of the trees. An impressed smirk on his face. He clapped his hands together slowly, raising one black eyebrow as he appraised the demon. The girl let out a whimper of fear as she took in the sight of the witcher now standing over her as well. Then with clumsy movements she clawed her way to her feet and stumbled off into the woods clutching her ruined dress to her, glancing back at Ellie with terrified eyes.

'Wait! It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you!' She shouted after the girl, but she had already faded into the shadows and Ellie let her hand fall limply at her side. Lambert eyed her for a moment, his smirk disappearing.

'Don't take it personally. It happens all the time.' He said, and something in his voice made Ellie glance at him sharply. Before she could ask what he meant, the witcher had already begun to haul the unconscious bodies off into the trees, and with one last look in the direction the girl had run, Ellie dropped the dagger and moved to help him.

After they had cleared the bodies, dumping them a safe distanced from the camp, they had sat back around the fire. Lambert seemingly unphased by Ellie's sudden unbound state. A newfound respect and cautious civility had appeared between the witcher and the demon. Ellie recounted what had happened leading up to the fight, and Lambert similarly began to tell her of his evening with Theadora and her family.

'After I saw those cock suckers in Ursten, I went for a drink with Thea's family. Didn't want to raise suspicions.'

'Of course, you're not in the least bit suspicious.' Ellie said, and the witcher shot her a filthy look.

'Am I telling this story or not?' He asked. She gave him a lopsided smile and gestured for him to continue. 'Got to talking and turns out those bastards have been working their way through the local female population. Thea was the latest up until that point. Usually they have their way with them, then ride them out to the middle of no man's land and dump 'em. Another part of the sport for them. Too cowardly to get blood on their own hands.' Lambert glowered into the fire as he took a swig from his water skin, which from the smell and sight of him, Ellie suspected didn't contain any water at this point.

'So, they were responsible for her being out in that swamp?' Ellie's expression darkened. 'I should've fucked up his elbows too.'

Lambert gave her an appreciative look before continuing. 'I took my payment and said my goodbyes. After hearing about what happened to her I didn't feel in the mood to pursue Thea anymore.'

'You _do_ have a chivalrous side.' Ellie jibed, her smile growing, but something about Lambert's expression made it fade quickly.

'I left the tavern and went off to find the fuckers. Knew they were headed for the refugee camp, so started my search there. Didn't take me long to follow them off into the woods, heard some girl screaming her head off and realised it was coming from near here. Took off at a sprint thinking maybe it was…well, anyway. It wasn't. Turned up and you were already half way through. Watched you mop up the scraps and give your weird speech to that scumbag Mikels.'

A silence settled over them as he finished his recounting of events. The fire between them crackled and Ellie found herself staring into dancing flames. The smallest seedling of a thought took root in her mind, something that the witcher had said but dismissed almost as quickly. Looking up at him, she bit her lip, suddenly nervous to ask.

'You-errr, you said you thought something when you heard the scream coming from here. What was that exactly?'

The effect her words had on the man were not at all what she had been expecting. Lambert stilled, becoming statuesque, his water skin poised halfway to his mouth. His generally pale complexion then took on a dusky pink hue, and the tops of his ears burned a brilliant crimson.

'Nothing. I thought nothing. Obviously, you were fine. Should've known after you took out that damn water hag with your bare hands. Anyway, it's late. We should sleep. I mean, I should sleep…you do…you do whatever it fucking is you do.' The words tumbled out in a rush. The usual brash bravado she had become used to, replaced with a stuttering mess. Ellie held back a grin as the witcher busied himself with getting his bedroll sorted, then in a very dramatic display for someone getting ready to sleep, he lay on his side, facing away from her and pulled the blanket up to his neck.

She clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle the snort of laughter, then once she had calmed down she surveyed the strange man now making a song and dance of snoring _very_ loudly. So, he had been concerned for her well-being? For some reason the thought and the way he had reacted to her asking, made Ellie feel warm to the pit of her stomach. It had been a long time since anyone had rushed to her aid. It was…nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, here's my weekly update. Hope you're all doing good, keeping safe, keeping sane. Just a side note, I changed the rating to Mature because I feel this story may go down some roads that justify it being a higher rating. Anyway, I'll see you all in another week. As always read, review and enjoy! :)


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Lambert awoke the next day with a dreadfully sore back. He had slept awkwardly all night, but had been unwilling to change his position due to the half demon, half annoying girl that had been sat watching him sleep. For a brief blissful moment, he forgot why he had gone to bed so abruptly, then the memory of what he had said came crashing back. Why had he admitted that he’d been afraid for her safety? That he had thought she had been the one screaming. _Urgh, you’re fucking idiot Lambert_ , he thought, pulling the blanket over his head to block out the dawn’s light. _Capture a half demon and start getting sappy, spouting nonsense to her. She’s your goddamn prisoner jackass._

‘Morning.’ A cheery voice suddenly piped up from behind him. The witcher groaned and tried to will himself back to sleep. Unfortunately, he had already fulfilled his limited need to rest and they needed to get back on the road. Their detour to Ursten had already put unnecessary time on a journey governed by its lack of time. The pass to Kaer Morhen would be closing in a few weeks and he wanted to be there well before that. Trekking alone through that mountain range in a blizzard was one thing. With an extra body it was no joke. Reluctantly he pulled back his blanket and sat up. Raising his arms and listening to the loud popping of his joints as he stretched his stiff muscles. 

‘You didn’t sleep very well.’ The thorn in his side spoke again. ‘You were muttering and shifting around a lot.’ Lambert turned to face the girl still sat cross legged where he had left her last night. The fire was burning healthily, meaning she had continued to feed it whilst he was sleeping. He may have been uncomfortable but at least he hadn’t been cold. 

She watched him with those intense blue eyes of her, her mouth turned up slightly at the corners in the beginnings of a smile. ‘Maybe I would have slept better if a crazy demon wasn’t staring at me.’ 

Her brow wrinkled in that now familiar expression of puzzlement. ‘I wasn’t staring at you all night. You’re just right in my field of vision.’ 

Lambert rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. ‘You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you don’t die. You sure you’re not a really stubborn ghost?’ He was surprised to hear her chuckle lightly at his sarcasm, it was carefree and full of humour. The sound was jarring. 

‘Maybe this will help you.’ She said, her voice still holding the remnants of her laughter. Peeking through his fingers, Lambert saw she was holding something out to him. 

‘Is that a…rabbit?’

‘Yeah, I cooked it for you. I know it’s not a normal breakfast…well, not in my world at least. But as I don’t need to sleep I thought I’d at least do something useful.’ The witcher stared in bemusement at the well-cooked joint of rabbit that the demon was offering him. It looked and smelt amazing, his stomach rumbled in response to it but he felt a tiny sliver of doubt enter his mind. Ellie saw his expression and gave a loud, theatrical sigh.

‘I haven’t poisoned it, and if you take it from me you’re not going to enter into some dumb pact or deal or whatever it is you think demons do to people. Just take the damn rabbit Lambert.’ 

His eyes narrowed. ‘That’s exactly what a demon would say to make me take it.’ Ellie’s jovial mood vanished in an instant. With a huff she leant across and shoved the joint of meat into his hands, then sat back down, her arms folded across her chest.

‘Honestly, I’m trying to be nice. Why’d you have to make it so hard?’ 

The witcher held the meal she had made him awkwardly, eyeing her suspiciously. His stomach let out another growl of protest, and he brought it towards his face to sniff at it experimentally. It smelt clean and his medallion wasn’t responding to any hidden magic. Tentatively he took a bite, then before he could stop himself he was wolfing the rabbit down. Ellie smiled in smug satisfaction and began to busy herself by putting out the fire she had so diligently kept alight.

Finishing his unexpected breakfast, Lambert sat watching the strange girl bustling about the camp. After a moment of quiet contemplation Ellie paused and stared down at him, that wrinkle on her brow speaking louder than words. ‘How did you get the rabbit?’ He asked, getting up to help ready their departure.

‘I caught it.’ She said, slowly. Her confused expression deepening the crease between her eyebrows. Lambert found himself captivated by it.

‘With no crossbow or traps?’ 

She lifted her wrists which were free of the dimeritium shackles that he'd put on her ‘Things are a lot easier now I can use my hands again.’ 

Lambert gave her an incredulous look as he placed his bedroll and saddlebags back on his horse. ‘You chased down a rabbit and killed it with your bare hands whilst I was sleeping, so you could make me breakfast? You’re a mad one blue eyes.’ 

Ellie shrugged, her expression unreadable. ‘I wanted to say thanks. For coming to my rescue last night.’ He froze and slowly turned from checking his saddle to regard her with a steely look. She responded with a broad grin and skipped over to pet his horse. 

‘I mean it Lambert. Thank you.’ Silence fell between them. He regarded her as she gently stroked the muzzle of his horse, the animal nudging forward to get a better angle. It was the second time in the last ten minutes she had used his name, both times it had elicited a strange, tingling feeling across his skin. 

‘S’all right.’ He said in a gruff voice. Clearing his throat, he finished up and took his mount by the reins and urged him to walk on.

‘Not going to ride today?’ Lambert looked sideways at the girl walking next to him, her expression perplexed. He shook his head.

‘No, need to replenish some supplies. Easier to do that on foot.’ The wrinkle was back, but she didn’t press him further. Instead they lapsed into a tentative silence, the witcher finding he didn’t feel that weird walking side by side with a demon through the woods. After a while he spotted the thing he was looking for. Kneeling down, Lambert carefully uprooted the spongy stems of puffball and put them in his ingredients pouch. He could feel the quizzical eyes of his companion on his back as he straightened up and continued on. A few more feet and he saw a large bush groaning with white myrtle flowers. 

Ellie leant in as he plucked the dainty petals and gathered them in a torn piece of cotton. ‘Errr, so what’s this all about? Didn’t take you for a collector.’ 

‘Pfft, I’m not. I need these to make potions. And I need potions to hunt monsters. You see how the cycle works?’ 

‘Potions huh.’ She said, ignoring his sarcastic tone completely. Her fingers ran lightly over the flowers and she picked one of the petals, holding it up in front of her. ‘So, can you do magic too?’ 

Lambert gave her an odd look, tucking his stash of white myrtle away. Then held out his hand and fired off a quick blast of Igni. She took a reflexive step back, her eyes widening. ‘In a manner. Some would call this magic, but it’s not really. Just some cheap imitation, perfect for mutants like us.’ His mouth twisted into a sour grimace and he went back to scanning the flora for his next ingredient.

‘Could I drink one of your potions?’ Ellie asked, skipping back to his side and not even acknowledging his darkened mood. The witcher couldn’t help but snort at her request, then a seed of doubt entered his mind and he stared down at her.

‘I don’t know. Our potions are deadly to anyone who isn’t a witcher, but I’m not sure what the effects would be on a demon.’ 

‘ _Half_ demon.’ She corrected him.

‘Hmmm.’ Was his noncommittal answer. They walked on, quiet again. Lambert found the last thing he needed to restock his alchemy supplies, a good specimen of celandine, and he began leading them to the road once more. 

‘I wonder if those men have woken up yet.’ Blue eyes mused.

‘They'll probably wish they weren't awake with the injuries you gave them. Still not sure why you didn’t kill them.’ He responded, keeping his eyes forward although he was suddenly very aware of how close she was walking to him. Her arm almost brushing his. 

‘Would you have?’ 

He only thought for a beat before answering forcefully, ‘Absolutely.’ 

‘Hmmm.’ She said in the same vague way he had earlier. Ordinarily he would have found her mocking irritating, but today he had to fight to hold his smirk back. ‘Why didn’t you once I'd finished knocking them out then? Would’ve been quite easy to accomplish…even for you.’

This time he did look at her with irritation evident in his expression, but the grin she had plastered on that round face of hers made it hard to remember why he was mad. ‘Seemed like overkill.’ He finally blustered, looking away again. _Much safer._

‘Yes, I guess it was. Don’t think they’ll be as enthusiastic in their hobby after a girl downed them with no trouble.’ 

‘You didn’t answer my question.’ He said. 

‘Why didn’t I kill them? Because I’m not allowed.’ Her choice of words and the matter of fact way she said them made Lambert come to halt. His curiosity itching at his insides.

‘Not… _allowed._ Who says you’re not allowed to kill them?’ 

Her demeanour changed. The grin fading and her eyes deepening from turquoise to that of a troubled, storm tossed sea. ‘It’s just…the rules ok. Don’t witchers have rules?’ 

‘Being aloof isn’t an attractive quality in a prisoner Blue eyes.’ He said smarmily, raising an eyebrow. The storm became more turbulent. 

‘Prisoners are usually tied up.’ She shot back, holding her freed hands up in front of him. ‘Although, most captors would at least give their prisoners new shoes if they insisted they walk everywhere.’

Lambert glanced down at her filthy, bare feet. Then slowly let his gaze slide up her body, taking in her ruined, blood and mud-soaked clothes. Coming to rest on her dirt covered cheeks and haystack hair. 

‘Hmm.’ He said, scratching at his beard. ‘I’ll admit, we could both do with a bath. You more than me obviously.’ Blue eyes glowered at him, the storm turning into a hurricane in her eyes. ‘I think I saw a river near the village when we were approaching yesterday. We could make a short detour and maybe I can find some other, less swampy clothes for you to wear.’ He shot her a smirk as she continued to stare daggers at his head. ‘I mean I could do all that…but witchers don’t do anything for free. Especially not for monsters they’ve captured.’

His smirk widened into a shit eating grin as she folded her arms across her chest. ‘Fine. I’ll answer some questions.’ She held up a finger as he opened his mouth. ‘ _One_ , for the bath. And _one_ for the clothes. So, two.’ 

‘Thought you weren’t one to be mysterious.’ He said, his voice snarky. She didn’t like him throwing her own words back at her, her mouth twisting into a rueful smile.

‘Thought you didn’t negotiate with monsters.’ She shot back at him, doing a pretty impressive imitation of his own snarky tone. He tilted his head back and let out a loud sudden bark of laughter. She looked at him, her blue eyes wide as he finished, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

‘Very good. Have it your way. Now, you want a bath or not?’ She wrinkled her nose in disdain as she stared down at herself. 

‘Lead the way.’ 

He gave another bitter chuckle then headed towards where he had seen the river yesterday. It was only a short walk before they heard the sound of fast flowing water, then the river came into view. The current here was much too strong for them to bathe, and even as he followed the path of the water he saw it drop off abruptly further down. The thundering crash of a waterfall reaching his ears. Lambert led his horse and the girl down an incline, and after negotiating their way past a wall of boulders and thick shrubs they came upon a deep pool where the waterfall descended. 

The pool was surrounded by steep wooded banks and the edges of it were dense with reeds and other water plants. Lambert kept his senses on alert for any drowners that might be hiding in the foliage, but so far this area looked to be monster free. He cast a practiced eye over the rippling water of the pool and saw it wasn’t anywhere near deep enough to house anything too sinister. Besides, his travel companion was hardly a timid damsel so he wasn’t concerned. They were quite a way off the road now, unlikely to get any unwanted visitors. A small patch of bank was clear near the waterfall itself and Lambert chose this spot to tie up his horse and begin rummaging through his saddle bags.

Blue eyes stood at the edge of the pool, staring off into the water. Finding what he was looking for, he walked over to stand beside her. The strange familiarity of her presence not as alarming to the witcher as it probably should've been. Maybe it was the half human side of that made it so easy to be around her? Without looking at the girl, he handed her an off-white shirt and she took it, giving him an odd look. 

‘Funnily enough, I don’t tend to keep women’s clothes on my person. This is clean and it’ll do for now.’ He glanced down at her ridiculously small trousers, they were more like undergarments, and he found his eyes lingering on her bare legs for a little longer than necessary. ‘We’ll have to find better clothes for you at some point. Along with some boots.’

Blue eyes clutched the shirt to her chest, her expression hard to read. But for some reason Lambert choose that moment to notice that her eyes were exactly the same colour as the pool they were stood next to. ‘Thank you.’ She said, her voice quieter than usual. ‘Umm, are you going to stay here?’ 

He frowned at her, unsure what she was asking, then realisation hit and he rubbed the back of his head vigorously with one hand.

‘No, of course not. I’ll be on the other side of those rocks cleaning my swords if you need me. Let me know when you’re done will you.’ He said, already turning and leaving her alone. His face felt unusually hot and he found himself walking away at quite a pace, not daring to look back at the girl by the pool. 

* * *

The water felt amazing. Better than amazing, super fucking _duper_ amazing. Ellie was sure she hadn’t enjoyed a shower this much in a long time. She tilted her head back and let the cool water pour over her face and shoulders. The road dirt and swamp sludge washing away with the waterfall. She was still wearing her dirty shorts, letting the water wash them as well as her, but she had taken what remained of her cotton vest off and discarded it by the pool. At first, she had held a wary arm over her now exposed chest, unsure whether Lambert was going to keep his promise of staying behind the rocks. But after entering the rushing curtain of water she had removed it, making sure to keep her back to the clear patch of bank where Horse was now grazing peacefully. 

Ellie let out a long sigh, the tension over the last few days also leaving her body. It had been a while since she had died for the third time, so her limbs felt noticeably stronger, the nausea that had plagued her after every resurrection had all but disappeared. Another thing she had noticed was the ringing in her ears had vanished again, only briefly rearing its heads when Lambert had demonstrated that fire trick he did with his hands. Maybe it was linked to whatever that was…had he called it magic? 

She had never encountered humans, or even hybrids being able to perform feats like that. The closest thing she had seen to his jet of fire was what the Ifrit tribe could do. Producing fire weapons and even wings with their demonic powers. She had always been slightly envious of their abilities. She could make fire, in a roundabout way, but it required summoning lightning and getting it to hit something flammable. A lot of effort. Thinking about the world she had come from, it had been a while since she had tried to open a door to get back. 

There was nothing stopping her attempting to return now. Her shackles were off and her captor seemed to be leaving her alone for long periods of time. Even now she was unguarded, glancing over her shoulder through the curtain of water she could see Horse making his way along the bank, no sign of his master. Ellie thought about making a run for it. It would only take her a moment to get a safe distance and then try to open a gateway. The sound of the waterfall would be able to mask the sound of her running from the nearby witcher. But even as she thought about the technicalities of escaping a niggling, prickling sensation under skin and in her gut made her pause. 

She still had no idea why she had ended up here, or how that gateway had even opened. Lambert had promised the place he was taking her would hold the answer to those questions and her gut agreed. The niggling turned into that insistent gentle tugging, like there was a thread connecting her to the man sat beyond those boulders. For now, he seemed to trust her, so she would bide her time and try to understand why she had been brought here.

Deciding she was about as clean as she was going to get in the circumstances, Ellie waded back to the bank, keeping a careful eye on the rocks. There were no prickling sensations that usually signalled someone was watching her, so the witcher had obviously remained true to his word. Reaching the grassy clearing that Horse was still slowly working his way through, she pulled on the shirt Lambert had given her. It was far too large but it was clean and better than the rag of a vest she had been wearing previous. 

Rolling up the sleeves to her elbow, Ellie was at least able to use her hands again to tuck in the edge of the garment into her damp but slightly less filthy shorts. It smelt strongly of horse and leather, a result of being kept in a saddlebag for so long, and underneath there was the overpowering sting of spice and manly musk. Ellie had become used to Lambert’s scent now, having travelled with him for a few days, so she no longer had to wrinkle her nose in defence of his odd aroma. In fact, having it so close to her face now she could pick out the warming scent of cinnamon specifically. It was a slightly sweet smell, with a blossom of warmth woven in. Picking up her empty dagger belt she debated whether to put it back on, but it seemed pointless considering the daggers it had been holding had been lost. 

Feeling less like she had been living in a hole for the past week, Ellie flopped down on the grass next to the pool, letting the few rays of sunlight that were breaking through the canopy dry her slowly. She closed her eyes and listened to Horse’s constant munching, the other sounds of the forest weaving into a relaxing background hum. After several minutes of quiet calm, the sound of light footsteps alerted her to someone approaching from behind the wall of boulders. She wasn’t worried, the approaching scent matched her new oversized shirt.

‘You done?’ A smooth voice tinged with sarcasm said. She could sense he was stood over her and even with her eyes shut she could see the half arrogant, half irritated pose he was probably adopting. Cracking open an eye, she looked up at him and sure enough the witcher was staring down at her, his arms folded across his chest. 

‘I guess.’ She said, her mouth twitching at his sneer of annoyance.

‘Thanks for letting me know. It’s not like I’m trying to get anywhere in a hurry or anything.’ Lambert began to mutter to himself as he undid his armour, shedding it on the bank next to her along with his swords. Ellie propped herself up on her elbows, alarmed at her captor’s rapid state of undress. 

‘You want me to go back there?’ She asked, her voice cracking embarrassingly as he began to loosen his black undershirt. 

‘Why? I’m not shy.’ His mouth curled up into a smirk as he pulled the shirt over his head, mercifully keeping his leather trousers on as he dived into the pool. The splash he created was nowhere near consistent with his size. She realised he had done a perfect swan dive into the water, creating hardly a ripple. 

He stayed underneath for quite a while, demonstrating that along with his heightened senses and strength, he could obviously hold his breath for an inhuman amount of time. Ellie was just starting to become concerned when he resurfaced, letting in a gasp of air and rubbing his hands through his dark, wet hair. He swam a few lengths of the pool, his strokes sure and quick. The girl on the bank watched, unable to look away as the witcher finished and began to walk out of the clear, blue water.

The breath in her throat caught as Lambert waded into the shallows, water dripping from his exposed torso. He was an attractive man for sure, but it wasn’t his clearly defined muscles, the smattering of dark hair on his chest or his tight leather trousers that made her chest constrict. The two thin claw marks which were a defining feature of his face turned out to be just the tip of a _very_ large iceberg. His body was covered in what appeared to be years and years of injuries; some old, some fairly recent. The pale flesh of his torso was criss-crossed with claw marks of varying sizes, there were great craters in his sides and abdomen where creatures had obviously taken a bite out of him. A long, ropy scar curved from his belly button around his right hip and disappeared behind his back. It looked like a gigantic claw or blade had sliced him nearly in half. Even though his legs and back were hidden from her view, Ellie suspected that they were also similarly marred and she felt her chest constrict further until it felt like an iron band was wrapped around it. 

Slowly she rose to her feet, and as Lambert stood rubbing the water from his hair in the shallows, she approached him as if in a daze. He looked up at her with those arresting amber eyes and followed her progress warily. Ellie stopped a few feet from him, the water lapping at her ankles, and her attention was caught by the newest addition to his trophies. There was a long, jagged cut on his upper arm, the remnants of an attempt to stitch it surrounding the red, puckered flesh. It was healing, but badly, and she was surprised to see it had no sign of infection considering the limited medicine this world likely had. Without thinking she raised a hand to touch the wound, moving forward a few more paces until she was stood toe to toe with the witcher. 

His hand shot out as he predicted her intention and grabbed her wrist. It wasn’t an aggressive action, in fact his hold was almost gentle, but he firmly held her upraised arm in place. Their eyes locking. The place where his hand touched her wrist felt hot. Almost like she was being branded but for some reason she felt unwilling to pull her hand free from his grasp. 

‘Watcha’ doing there Blue eyes?’ He asked. His voice had changed by several degrees. Gone was the sniping, mocking tone she had grown used to. It had taken on a husky quality that made the way he said her infuriating nickname sound like a caress. Ellie felt the band constrict again, but this time it was lower. Her stomach clenched as she scrutinised his face, those cat eyes seeming to bore into her head, trying to read her thoughts. 

‘Does it hurt?’ She offered weakly. Her words coming out in a croak. His face remained unreadable as he shook his head infinitesimally.

‘I’ve had worse.’ He replied, his voice quiet. Her traitor eyes slid from his face down to his chest, where the worst was located. They stood only inches apart, the cool water dripping from his raised arm soaking into her clean, white shirt. She could feel it begin to stick to her skin, likely turning it see through but she had little concern for that. She was hypnotised by the effect the water was having on his body. 

It gave it a slick sheen, the patch of dark hair near his throat flattened against his defined chest muscles. She watched as a drop of water slowly slid down his torso, her eyes travelling with it. Suddenly, she felt an alarmingly strong urge to reach out and run her hand along its trail. To feel the dip and rise of his abdominal muscles, to explore the jagged scars that littered his torso and follow the water all the way past the pronounced ‘v’ at his hips to wear another line of black hair disappeared into his trousers. As her eyes came to rest at the junction between his stomach and trousers, she felt the atmosphere shift dramatically. 

Up until then there had been a crackling tension; an air of annoyance and caution dancing between them since they had met. Now it changed, grew in weight, pulling the air with it, and out of her already constricted lungs. She took short, ragged gasps as whatever it was intensified, not helped by the fact that she could hear his breathing was laboured too. On top of all this, she couldn’t bring herself to look away from his stomach and up to his face again. 

‘What are you thinking?’ His voice snapped her out of her swirling, disorganised thoughts, and her eyes reluctantly travelled back up to his glowing gaze. 

That thread, the one that had always told her what to do, started tugging her with almost aggressive insistence towards the strange man in front of her. The fire that had been burning her wrist spread with alarming speed to her gut and pulsated there like an angry Ifrit. She had to put every bit of strength she had into not pulling him towards her, and even more concerning she could see the same struggle reflected in his own face. His jaw tense and his eyes staring at her with none of the haughty disdain he usually reserved for her. Instead those amber eyes were now staring at her intensely, the colour of them closer to fire now. 

‘So, what do we do now?’ His husky voice sent a lance of desire coursing through her demon blood. She could feel her control slipping and this was neither the time or the place for that. 

‘You-you could let go of my hand maybe.’ She managed to stutter out between clenched teeth. He raised an eyebrow slowly. The expression of smug humour more in line with the Lambert she knew, but oddly attractive in this scenario.

‘Do you want me to let go of your hand?’ She glared up at him, jutting her chin out defiantly. She wanted to punch that smug look off his face but a deeper, louder part of her wondered if maybe kissing him would have the same effect. Her eyes flashed briefly to his full lips. He caught the movement, of course he did, and they pulled up into an equally smug smirk. ‘I don’t think you do Blue eyes. I think you want me to do something else entirely.’

She could almost taste him she was so close. The volatile, unexpected tension between them was a raging super nova, on the verge of explosion. She felt her feet begin to move forward, to close the distance between them. It was right then that the screaming started, followed by a thunderous roar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you are all staying safe and enjoying this so far. I am now on Chapter 15 so a good way ahead. Please let me know what you think, your comments mean the world to me. :)


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The roar of a griffin echoed through the trees and all of Lambert’s senses jumped to attention. He was still very much aware of the demon girl he was holding. The fire between them making his mouth run dry and his skin prickle with some unknown force. But his training and instincts overrode the weird feelings, and he immediately leapt into action.

He was on the bank of the pool, pulling on his shirt and armour before the girl had even turned to look at him. Securing his swords to his back he ran over to his horse and began searching through his bags. He was aware of Blue eyes approaching him from behind. 

‘What is it?’ She asked. There was no hint of fear in her voice, and he found he like that about her, immensely. Whatever else this strange half demon was, she wasn’t a coward. 

‘A griffin. Vicious whoresons.’ Another scream reverberated in the distance. It was a man’s baritone. Finding the bottle of oil, mixed with dog tallow and the white myrtle petals, Lambert uncorked it with his mouth and poured a liberal amount onto his sliver sword. Grabbing a cloth from his bag, he quickly worked it into the blade. Not ideal, but from the sounds of the man he didn’t have enough time to administer it properly. Throwing the cloth and bottle back into his bags, he checked he had at least one grapeshot bomb in his pouch then turned in the direction of the commotion. He shot a look at the girl stood awkwardly by his side. They’d have to address whatever the fuck that had been just then, but right now he needed to do his job. 

‘You coming?’ He said. Blue eyes looked up at him in surprise. 

‘You want me with you?’ 

‘It’s what I said isn’t it. The last time I left you alone you took out half a village, prefer to have you where I can see you.’ He didn’t wait for a response, already launching into a sprint. His gut said she would follow, and whatever this weird connection between the two of them was he knew it would be right. 

Sure enough, he heard the sound of her quick, feather light footsteps behind him. She easily caught him and maintained his speed as he dashed, full pelt, through the trees. If she had been struggling to walk when they first met, now she was sure of foot and dogged his steps like a wolf on the hunt. They were nearing the griffin now, he could hear its eagle like shrieks and the resonate boom of its flapping wings. The man’s cries were also rising in pitch and he could clearly hear him yelling a garbled mix of, ‘Help me!’ and ‘Melitele, save me!’

 _Well, I’m certainly not Melitele pal, but I’ll do my best._ Lambert thought, as he barrelled through the last trees and came upon the scene of chaos in front of him. They had arrived at a large field of sorts, the woods they had been in surrounding half of it, and farmland bordering the other half. There was a huge, gnarled oak tree in the centre of the field that looked like it had been there for centuries. It would have been an idyllic, peaceful setting save for the well-dressed man halfway up the tree, his fancy doublet torn and hanging off him. There was a dead, half eaten horse at the base of the tree and a very large, very angry griffin clawing furiously at the branches covering its currently screaming quarry. 

The hybrid let out another indignant screech and the man hugged the bough he was clinging to tighter. ‘Does this always happen?’ Blue eyes said from behind him. 

‘Does what happen?’ He replied testily, trying to figure out a good angle to get at the monster.

‘People screaming and you running to their rescue.’ He gave her a funny look.

‘Only since meeting you. Usually I have to go looking for the people that need rescuing, they don’t normally find to me.’ The griffin lunged at the tree, the great claws on its wings tearing at the offending foliage in its way. Its back legs latched onto the lower trunk and it steadied itself, thrusting its beak into the canopy to get at the still hysterical man.

‘Amazing.’ He heard the crazy girl whisper. Rolling his eyes, Lambert chose his spot, gripping the grapeshot bomb in one hand, his sword in the other.

‘Yeah, amazing.’ He muttered as he edged away from her. She matched his movements, keeping to his side. Good, last thing he needed was a wayward demon standing out in the open. Sticking to the treeline, the witcher moved quickly and quietly until he was directly behind the griffin. The beast didn’t turn or notice the two new additions, continuing to harass the man. Palming the bomb, Lambert took a second to judge the distance and wind direction, then wound his arm back to throw it.

A firm hand grabbed his wrist just as he was about to let rip and his head instantly whipped round to glare in disbelief at the cause of this interruption. ‘What are you doing Blue eyes?’ He hissed, as enraged as the griffin he was trying to kill.

‘Wait.’ The girl wasn’t looking at the angry witcher, she was staring at the monster. ‘Look at its leg.’ 

‘What?’ He snapped. About ready to throw the bomb at her.

‘Its leg. Its hurt.’ Lambert turned to look back at the griffin. Indeed, one of its back legs had a significant chunk of it missing. From the look of the wound he summarised it had likely got caught in a bear trap and had ripped it free, leaving part of its leg behind. He frowned in irritation at having missed the obvious weakness, and tried to remove his hand from the demon’s grasp.

‘Thanks for the pointer, now let go so I can bomb this motherfucker.’ But the grip Blue eyes had on him only tightened.

‘That’s not why I told you.’ She said through clenched teeth. ‘Maybe there’s a reason it’s attacking that guy. On the ground, there, isn’t that a trap?’ 

Over the still shrieking griffin and high pitch yells of the fancy man, Lambert lowered his arm and fully turned to look at the girl. ‘And what? You want me to let it kill him?’ When she didn’t respond he felt his irritation boil over into full blown anger. ‘I don’t have fucking time for this. If I don’t act now, that guy is going to be griffin feed, along with whatever reward he would have given me as a result of saving his life.’

Her eyes narrowed, darkening to a shade of deep sea blue. ‘It always comes down to money.’

‘Pretty much.’ He tossed the bomb in his hand. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me.’ He said. Drawing, what he thought, was a definite line under the argument. Resuming his planned attack on the griffin, he aimed his bomb, this time focusing on the injured rear leg of the monster. Just as he was about to let it fly however, his medallion gave a jerk and something blurred past him. 

The witcher froze, his arm still raised with bomb in hand as the girl ran towards the beast and leapt nimbly onto its back. She straddled the monster as if it were a mount and gripped tightly to its coarse, black mane. 

‘Fuck it all.’ Lambert cursed, tucking the bomb back into his pouch and sprinting towards the monster now turning its head to see what had landed on it. ‘What the _shit_ are you doing Blue eyes!? Get the fuck off that thing!’ He yelled as he ran.

The griffin, now distracted by its uninvited passenger, disengaged itself from the tree and launched itself into the air, the girl still onboard. In a swirl of feathers and leaves it sailed upwards fifteen feet and began trying to buck Blue eyes from her perch. Lambert let out another colourful string of curse words as he kept his eyes fixed on the now swooping and diving griffin. He could see the girl still holding on, her body low over the beast’s tan back, her hands buried deep in its mane. The griffin let out a frustrated screech and hurtled straight up, sending them both careening into the cloudless sky. The witcher stood out in the open, watching the pair with a mixture of fury and panic. Sure, the demon could resurrect and heal herself, but would it work if she became a red smear on the ground? 

For some reason he found the idea of testing that theory horrifying, but as he dithered down below another of Vesemir’s trademark life lessons popped into his head. _Letting personal feelings cloud your judgement, is the fastest way to lose your life, or worse, the life of someone else._

A growl of frustration left Lambert as the griffin, having reached the dizzying height where it was barely more than a speck in the sky even to his enhanced eyes, now decided to plummet straight to earth at a stomach dropping speed. He needed to stop the griffin, but a bomb was out of the question as long as the girl was still attached to it. His window of opportunity reducing rapidly Lambert out another shout of ‘Fuck!’ as he quickly rolled so he was directly beneath the diving monster. As a witcher, religion meant little to naught to him, but he now found himself offering a silent prayer as he raised his hand and moved his fingers to write the Aard sign in the air above him.

A jolt of energy shot from his fingers and the air seemed to quiver with the aftershock of the magic. The griffin had been about ten feet above him when he had unleashed the simple spell but the concussive force still reached it, buffeting the beast back up a few feet before it let out a shocked roar and fell to earth, dazed. Lambert watched as it landed on its feet, its head bent as it tried to shake off the effects of being hit full in the face. Just over its massive shoulder, a small, pale face looked up, her blue eyes blinking, and hazed with confusion. 

‘Get down!’ He shouted, widening his stance and preparing his sword for the moment the griffin regained its senses.

‘Do you always have to act like such a jackass?’ She replied. Her voice surprisingly steady for someone that had just gone a joy ride with a griffin. He was so baffled by her question that he missed his chance to advance on the concussed monster. Shaking its great bird like head, the griffin dug the talons on the apex of its wings into the ground and let out a thunderous roar of defiance at the witcher. Lambert braced himself for the impending attack, levelling his silver sword across his arm in a defensive position. However, before either party could move, he saw a flash of movement from the beast’s back as Blue eyes leapt off and disappeared behind it.

 _Great, she screws my attack up and then runs for the hills._ He thought as he felt his lip pull back in a sneer. But his angry bitterness was short lived as the griffin suddenly shifted out of its aggressive stance and stood upright, its head titling slightly, like a dog hearing its name. Swinging its head round, it became fixated on something behind it…or someone. 

His brow lowered, Lambert cautiously moved around the griffin in a wide arc. All the time keeping his sword ready in case the mood shifted again. The beast however, remained docile. Throaty, rumbling chirps coming from deep in its chest. Now able to see the hind legs of the monster, Lambert lowered his sword in stunned silence. Blue eyes was kneeling by the griffin’s injured leg, her slender hands placed gently on the wound. Her mouth was moving quickly as she spoke in a low voice, so low even he couldn’t hear what she was saying. The crease between her eyebrows was set in place, an intense concentration etched in her expression. 

The griffin clicked its beak together, its yellow eyes fixed on the girl at its feet. She looked up at the sound and to the utter astonishment of Lambert, lifted a hand and placed it on the razor-sharp bill of the monster, giving it a soft pat. After a few seconds she stood up and rubbed her chin, deep in thought. He could still see the gaping wound the bear trap had made on the leg but it was definitely bleeding less. Had she healed it? He stared down at his motionless medallion. No magic detected, and yet the wound didn’t look as nasty or fresh as it had moments before.

He stood staring at the girl and the large, unusually placid monster until a squeaking voice from high up broke the surreal illusion. ‘Is it over?’ 

Turning his attention to the fancy man still in the tree Lambert gave one last glance at the girl, who was now rubbing the thick black hair around the griffin’s face. It was humming, deep in its throat, a sound of contentment. Giving a small shake of his head, his eyebrows raised so far he wasn’t sure they were still attached to him, he made his way to the solitary tree. Stopping at its base and looked up at the man who was staring back at him with wide, fearful eyes. 

‘By all the gods, you’re a witcher!’ He exclaimed. The witcher in question gave a heavy sigh.

‘Seems so.’ He said. ‘You gonna’ come down from there?’ 

‘Did you kill the beast?’ The man asked hopefully. Lambert noted his accent was very refined; this man was used to fine clothes, food and money. Lots of money he hoped. Looking back over his shoulder at the griffin he saw it watching Blue eyes intently, its tail swishing languidly from side to side. 

‘Errr, no. But I don’t think it’s going to be problem.’ 

‘You didn’t kill it? So, did you subdue the beast?’ The man asked, confused.

‘In a manner.’ Lambert folded his arms, his patience waning. ‘Look, are you going to fucking come down or do I need to come get you?’

A look of affronted shock flashed across the fancy man’s face. ‘Well, I…never have I been spoken to in such a impertinent-‘

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just get your fancy ass down here or I’m gonna’ leave you.’ He turned and made to walk away from the tree. He hadn’t walked more than two steps before there was a scrabbling sound somewhere above him, then a few yelps of pain and a thud as the fancy man dropped from his perch. His well-kept hair dishevelled, his already ruined doublet now covered in dirt. The witcher slowly turned and surveyed the rich man with an amused smirk.

‘There we are. That wasn’t so hard, was it?’ The man sniffed and stood up, batting the dust from his clothes in great clouds. He opened his mouth to say something to Lambert, when his attention was caught by the still very much alive, and very much present griffin stood a few feet away from them. The man let out another pathetic squeak of terror and bolted behind him.

‘I thought you said you’d got rid of the beast witcher?!’ Lambert rolled his eyes.

‘I said nothing of the sort, and as you can see it isn’t trying to attack you or me so I consider that subdued.’ As they watched the griffin lowered itself to the ground in a crouch, folding its wings in front of it. He had rarely seen one in this state of calm before. Only once when he had been paid to kill a female Royal griffin along with her nest of eggs. Knowing her location, he had snuck up on her and managed to catch her unawares. She had been sat on her nest in a similar fashion to the beast in front of him now. Completely at ease. 

Blue eyes was stood in front of the griffin, her hand extended as if she had given it the order to sit; like a trained mutt. Lambert felt an uneasy sensation in the pit of his stomach watching the small girl command such a powerful monster. The creature looking at her with quizzical eyes, cocking its head side to side. ‘My friend seems to have everything under control…somehow.’ Even as he reassured the man hiding behind him, Lambert wasn’t quite able to believe what he was seeing. When he had found the odd girl in parlay with a leshen, he had always assumed the leshen had been using her for its own twisted gains. But seeing her now, he began to wonder if she had some kind of power over monsters. 

_Well, that water hag had certainly not been her friend_ , he reminded himself. The fancy man let out a whimper as he peered around the Lambert’s shoulder. ‘But you’re a witcher, aren’t you supposed to _kill_ monsters?’ 

He snorted humourlessly, ‘Yeah, although I’m finding myself doing it less and less these days.’ He said dryly, surveying the cause of his problem. She looked up and gave them both a narrowed eyed glare, the fancy man yelped and grabbed Lambert’s arms. He felt a hot stab of irritation at the contact and immediately jerked out of the man’s grasp, turning on him.

‘I’d say you’re safe to go. Although, there is the matter of _our_ reward.’ He felt Blue eyes’ attention zero in on him. He’d probably feel her wrath again later for lumping her in with him but right now he needed to do business, and a two person reward was higher than one. 

‘Reward? But the beast isn’t dead.’ Fancy man objected, his pale face colouring very fast at the mention of money.

Lambert shrugged. ‘True, but it isn’t attacking you either. So, I’d say we saved your life. Got to be worth something considering your…standing.’ At this he looked the man up and down, indicating his finely crafted, if not a little torn, clothes. The man coloured further, trying to puff out his chest and increase his size. Although, next to Lambert it wasn’t very affective. 

‘I intended to kill this monster and would’ve had the matter in hand if it wasn’t for the shoddy trap some charlatan sold me.’ 

The witcher looked incredulously at the bear trap lying near the horse corpse. Not considering the stupid decision to go after a griffin with no armour, visible weapons or training, but to attempt to catch a _flying_ monster with a bear trap? He had to keep from laughing full in the fancy man’s face. He did, however let out a mocking snicker.

‘I doubt the bear trap was shoddy friend, just your judgement. What was your plan exactly? Call it…professional curiosity.’ He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, waiting for the man to speak. His mouth flapped open and shut, unsure how to respond to the rude witcher.

‘Well…if you must know, I lured it down with the horse and when the beast was caught I was going to kill it with this.’ As he spoke the fancy man pulled out a wicked looking dagger from his britches. Wicked looking yes, but still nowhere near enough to take on an adult griffin. Lambert eyed it sceptically and shook his head.

‘And why, exactly did you want to kill it?’ 

‘Felicia. The girl I intend to marry. She wanted me to prove my love with an act of valour.’ At this the witcher chuckled darkly.

‘This ain’t fucking Toussaint, and you’re certainly not a knight errant. Next time leave it to the professionals.’ Lambert took the knife out of the man’s hand and slid it into the back of his trousers. Fancy man stared dumbly at him for a moment before looking over at the griffin still lying in the middle of the field. 

‘I still need a trophy from the beast. I promised Felicia.’ He wailed, ‘A monster like that shouldn’t be allowed to live.’

At this Lambert noticed Blue eyes snap to attention, levelling a death stare at the fancy man.

‘Master witcher, I am rich. I will pay you handsomely if you could finish the beast on my behalf.’ Lambert scratched his beard thoughtfully, casting a sideways look at the man; his expensive clothes and ability to just buy a horse for bait made his offer that more tempting but that irritating niggling in the back of his mind that seemed so prominent nowadays swayed his decision. He really should get that seen to.

‘No deal I’m afraid. The beast doesn’t look like a threat to me and I only kill _dangerous_ monsters.’ He held out his hand to the outraged man. ‘I will accept compensation for me saving your life however. The least you could do.’ He flashed a charming smile at the man and the faint sound of chuckling could be heard from Blue eyes’ direction as the fancy man huffily handed over a small bag of coins.

‘Here. Have your reward, but mark my words I shall tell folk in Novigrad of your failure to fulfil your witcherly duties.’ 

Lambert bounced the bag in his hand a few times and waved the fancy man away with the other. He’d had enough of the man’s stupidity and posturing. Stomping off, muttering under his breath the man made his way back to the road where Lambert could see a fine horse waiting patiently for him. Lucky the griffin hadn’t taken a fancy to that particular morsel. The beast in question suddenly let out a deafening screech, provoking an impressive scream from the fancy man. Sending him scrambling the last few yards to his horse. Vaulting onto it in a manner the witcher didn’t think possible for a man of his standing, he spurred the mount into a frenzied gallop and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

‘Pillock.’ A voice from behind the griffin said.

His eyebrows knitted together in confused amusement as he looked over at the girl. _Pillock?_ He’d never heard that one before. Keeping his distance, because it was a fucking griffin at the end of the day, he watched as the girl rubbed the monster’s head affectionately. The beast let out another humming purr, deep from within its massive body. Walking around to its cat like rear, Blue eyes untucked the shirt he had given her and tore a strip from the bottom of it.

‘Hey! What you doing?’ Lambert snapped. 

‘I need to bandage her up.’ She replied nonchalantly, kneeling down by the griffin’s wounded leg.

‘Yeah, with _my_ shirt.’ He said, taking a step forward. The griffin’s head swung round to fix an eye on him. Gritting his teeth he froze, years of training and encounters with this particular monster made getting close to it very uncomfortable. 

‘Careful there Blue eyes.’ His words of caution were wasted, as she knelt right next to it, carefully wrapping the torn piece of shirt around the wound she had partially healed. She seemed as familiar with it as if it were a horse or a dog, not a two-ton monster that had given Lambert his fair share of scars.

‘I’m fine. She won’t hurt me.’ Lambert’s mouth pulled into a tight line and he advanced another step against his better judgement. 

‘I’m rapidly getting a reputation for being a witcher that doesn’t actually kill monsters.’ He said, his expression sour.

‘Remind me to thank you for that.’ She replied, straightening up and surveying her work. The piece of shirt was tied expertly around the griffin’s wound, protecting from any chance of infection. ‘There you go girl.’ She said affectionately, patting the griffin’s rump.

‘I tend to accept money, not thanks.’ Lambert muttered, placing the bag of coin the fancy man had given him into his pouch. ‘Now, what do you intend to do with this thing? I’m not bringing it along; one monster traveling with me is more than enough.’ 

Ellie gave him an amused look as she tucked what remained of his spare shirt back into her short trousers. ‘She should be fine. Thankfully it was her leg that was damaged not her wings.’ 

He snorted. ‘I gathered that, from your little trip into the sky. That was both reckless and exceedingly fucking stupid Blue eyes…and that’s coming from me.’ 

Her expression grew sad. ‘Falling wouldn’t have done anything permanent. I tried that already.’ The comment held so much weight and unsaid meaning that Lambert found he was unable to respond. The griffin, sensing its treatment was at an end, stretched like a cat waking up from a long nap, and faced its saviour. Lowering its head, it butted its beak against her hand. A strange clucking sound that Lambert had never heard a beast of its kind make coming from it. Chuckling, Blue eyes obliged the monster, scratching it enthusiastically under the scruff of its chin. The griffin’s eyes half closed in an expression of ecstasy. The witcher shook his head once more in disbelief.

Done with her fussing, the girl took a step back, giving the monster space to take off. The griffin let out another shriek, by way of farewell, and braced against the ground. With two forceful flaps of its great feathered wings it launched itself into the sky once more, this time sailing out over the fields and away from view. 

Lambert walked over to the girl stood with her arm shielding her eyes from the sun, watching as it faded away. ‘You owe me.’ He said, in a low voice. She gave him a sideways look, her blue eyes twinkling in the sunshine. 

‘Not everything deserves to die.’ 

He gave her a long lingering look, during which her cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. ‘I know Blue eyes, but life is cruel.’

With that he walked back into the trees, hoping to leave the last few bizarre hours behind him. 

* * *

Ellie wasn’t sure how to approach the witcher. From their unexplained encounter by the waterfall to the desperate rescue of the griffin, the fragile trust and friendliness she had earnt appeared to be cracked and a little broken now. They continued on to wherever it was they were headed in silence. Lambert riding Horse again and Ellie walking beside them. At least she wasn’t tied up now and he had stopped briefly in a small village to find her some boots to wear. They were a little tight and she was unused to wearing leather but it was better than walking bare foot and constantly regenerating the torn skin on the bottom of her soles. He had asked if she wanted to exchange her shorts for a skirt, that being the only thing that would fit her, but Ellie preferred the worn and slightly muddy shorts to an awkward skirt. 

The patches of woodland and thatched rooved houses started to give way to undulating, well-kept fields and sturdy stone buildings. Along with this, the traces of the mysterious war that was being fought somewhere in this world faded. The camp of refugees they had moved through outside of Ursten had alarmed and sadden her. She had seen a lot of death and suffering in her life so far, but the mass poverty and destruction of war was something she had yet to experience. She wondered if Lambert would get irritated if she asked about it, then she remembered it was Lambert so she kept her mouth shut. 

Casting a glance up at the man riding beside her, she examined his profile. She was sure he was aware of her looking at him but he remained stubbornly staring forward; golden, amber eyes on the road. She wasn’t sure she wanted to delve too deeply into what had transpired between them at the waterfall. It had come out of nowhere; one minute they had been sniping at each other, the next she had wanted to tear the rest of his clothes off him. Her stomach clenched uncomfortably at the memory. It had been a long time since she had looked at a man that way, so why did it have to be this random, superhuman jackass? 

With a sigh she looked away from him, he wasn’t all bad she supposed. He had saved her and decided…eventually…to help her. He had also spared the griffin. She looked down at the oversized shirt she was wearing, the soft cotton thick with his scent, and the new boots he had gotten her. Yeah, he wasn’t so bad. She got the feeling there was a hidden side to Lambert that even he wasn’t aware of, although she’d never say that to his face. Smiling to herself she looked up suddenly as Horse came to a stop next to her. Seconds later the muted thud of boots hitting dirt and the creak of leather armour signalled Lambert had dismounted. 

‘What’s wrong?’ She asked, automatically smelling for signs of danger.

‘Nothing.’ The witcher answered as he sauntered around his mount to her. ‘The sun’s not far off the horizon and I want to catch dinner before we make camp.’ He gave her an appraising look. ‘You may not need to eat, but I do.’

Leading Horse off the road, he rummaged in his saddle bags, producing a bunch of arrows. Then he undid what Ellie had thought was a stick from the saddle, until he pulled a strong piece of twine over each end, plucking the line so it emitted a resonate ping. It was a bow. Wide eyed and bursting with questions, Ellie bit her lip as she watched Lambert test the bow’s flexibility, he knocked an arrow and with barely a glance pulled the string back and released it into a nearby fence post. The arrow hit with a satisfying thunk, the sharp tip of it disappearing into the wood. 

‘Stay here.’ He said, tossing the bow over one shoulder.

‘I’m fed up of being left with Horse. Can’t I come? I’ll be quiet, promise.’ His expression changed from annoyance to utter confusion in the blink of an eye. 

‘Who the fuck is _Horse_?’ Ellie gestured to the animal who was, surprise, surprise, grazing a few feet from them. Lambert’s look darkened. ‘That’s not his name. And why would you name a horse Horse anyway?’

‘Well, I didn’t hear you call him anything so I took the liberty of naming him myself. Seemed rude not to call him anything.’ The witcher blinked in astonished silence at the girl. Then he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand.

‘You really are crazy Blue eyes. If you must know his name is Whoreson.’ Now it was her turn to look astonished.

‘Isn’t that an insult?’ Lambert nodded, smirking at her outrage over a horses’ name. ‘Why would you do that?’ 

He shrugged. ‘It’s easy to remember and fitting. Especially when he runs off or misbehaves.’ Ellie shook her head and went up to rub the animal in question behind the ears. He lifted his head and butted against her gently. 

‘I think I’ll stick to calling you Horse. What do you say?’ She asked him. He let out a long snort and nuzzled her cheek, causing her to chuckle in delight. ‘See, he prefers it.’ 

‘Traitor.’ Lambert muttered, narrowing his eyes at his mount. Grumbling some other choice words under his breath he started walking off into the fields. Ellie gave Horse one last pat before hurrying after the rapidly retreating witcher. He harrumphed nosily as she sidled up beside him, making a point to not make a sound as she followed. 

Choosing to ignore her, he began scanning the landscape for signs of game. Using his heightened sight, hearing and smell to pinpoint their whereabouts. Ellie watched him in fasciation as he hunted, keeping a few feet distance and downwind so as not to distract him too much. He moved fluidly and silently, she was only able to pick up the occasional sound of his footsteps due to her own sensitive hearing. She tried to keep track of what he was following, scenting the air every now and then. There were definitely rabbits and deer nearby but she had no idea how to follow tracks or markings on the ground. Lambert however, would stop every now and then, running a hand over some footprint or trace of fur lying on the ground. He would then resume the hunt in whatever direction the sign had told him to go.

The sun had begun to touch the horizon by the time he slowed and came to a stop, crouching in the grass. Ellie followed suit, tucking herself behind him and watching avidly as he unslung his bow and knock an arrow. In the distance she could make out the silhouette of a grazing deer, its head dipped into the long grass, oblivious to the danger. Carefully Lambert drew back the bow, his arms steady, his eyes staring intently at the target. A thrill rushed through Ellie as she watched him. There was something so dangerous and primal about him as he hunted, like his whole persona and being made sense in that one moment. This was what he had been made to do. 

With a quiet breath, the witcher let loose the arrow and it disappear with a soft swish. A millisecond later there was a wet thud and a single cry from the deer before it went silent. Lambert rose to his feet and walked over to his quarry with Ellie in tow. She let out her own breath as she looked down at the dead animal, the arrow lodged straight in its heart. A perfect shot. 

‘That was amazing.’ She said quietly. Lambert looked at her sharply, his brow furrowed. She felt her cheeks heat again under his stare, she hadn’t meant to say that out loud. 

‘You’re a confusing one Blue eyes. One minute you’re stopping me from killing a griffin, the next you’re applauding my hunting skills.’ Ellie gave him a long look, trying to see if he was making fun of her, but all she saw was genuine curiosity. 

Shrugging, she knelt down and laid a hand on the dead deer’s head, offering a silent prayer for its travelling soul. ‘Not everything needs to die, but you need to eat and as you said…’. She stood up and gave him a sad look. ‘Life is cruel.’

Lambert’s eyes widened, then he bent down and picked the deer up, slinging it over his shoulders. ‘Come one. I’d like to eat before it gets dark.’ 

He walked back the way they’d come, and with a small smile Ellie followed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, hope you're all keeping well. I am now on Chapter 16 and still going. This is going to a fairly long one so hope you're all up for a journey. Anyway, I'll leave you for another week to read, review and enjoy! :)


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Novigrad was a place Lambert generally liked to avoid if he could. It was large, jumbled, and crowded. Usually with people that thought far too highly of themselves and looked at him like he was a shit some drowner had left behind. Unfortunately, it was also one of the largest cities in the Northern kingdoms, and contained most things a witcher would need to continue his journey on the Path. Including, high paying contracts. Nevertheless, he felt his heart sink as the jagged, towering shadow of Novigrad’s skyline appeared in the distance. The unusually warm Autumn sunlight creating a heat haze in front of it, making it look like a really shitty mirage.

It had been a full two days since the griffin incident, and a nearly a week since the water hag and mercenaries incident. He found measuring his time with Blue eyes by incidents a lot easier, seeing as she caused a lot of them. She was ahead of him at the moment, staring intently at a bush or something just off the road. Pulling Whoreson to a stop next to her, for he refused to let her stupid name of Horse stick, he looked down at her bronze coloured hair as it was the only thing left sticking out of the bush. 

‘What’cha doing there Blue eyes?’ He asked, leaning casually on his pommel. The girl extracted herself from the dark green leaves and looked up at him. A few of the leaves were stuck in her hair and Lambert had to resist the urge to remove them. 

‘What is this?’ She held out her hand and presented a small white flower with a deep purple stem.

‘That’s bryonia. A common ingredient in alchemy, strange to see it growing here though.’ Blue eyes examined the flower, bringing it close to her nose to sniff at it.

‘Smells like dried fruit. What can you make with it?’ Normally, an impromptu lesson in alchemy in the middle of a road would be the last thing Lambert would want to do. However, her inquisitive expression and sky-blue eyes made something inside the irritable witcher give in to her questioning. 

‘I use it to make dragon’s dream bombs mostly, but I can also make draconid and hybrid oil with the stems.’ 

‘Dragon’s dream? Sounds interesting.’ She probed.

‘Yeah, they are. Interesting how you can blow up a whole nest of nekkers in one go with them.’ He replied off hand, watching as she held the seemingly insignificant flower a little further away from her face. 

‘All these different plants…do they all have uses in potions and bombs?’ That little crease appeared between her eyebrows and suddenly Lambert found it difficult to swallow.

‘Most of them. I never really liked alchemy, bombs are the only thing I’m good at making.’ 

She tilted her head, her lips twitching up at the corners. ‘I can believe that.’ She said, a cheeky glint in her eyes. Lambert let out a long, laboured sigh.

‘As much as I love sharing all my boring witcher secrets on the open road, I’d love an ale and a proper bed even more.’ Blue eyes placed the bryonia blossom in the pocket of her trousers and nodded, turning to continue walking. With a glance at the sun the witcher could see with their current pace they wouldn’t reach the next settlement before nightfall. Watching the girl start to skip off down the road he kicked his horse on to catch up.

‘Hey, Blue eyes. Stop a second.’ The girl skidded to a halt instantly, turning to look up at him in confusion.

‘I thought you wanted to get going?’ 

He sighed in exasperation. ‘I do, but at this rate we’ll be another week before we’re anywhere near civilization.’ Her expression darkened, along with her eyes. The clouds rolled in on that summer sky blue until they were a deep, ominous navy.

‘What’d you want me to do? Sprint next to you?’ He felt his jaw clench automatically at the confrontational tone, but arguing now was just going to be counterproductive. Against his better judgement he held out a hand to her, his lip curling slightly at the corner. 

‘Shut the fuck up and grab hold.’ Despite his sharp words the surprise of his offer made her baulk. She stared at the hand as if it were a djinn that had just materialised in front of her. ‘Blue eyes, take the fucking hand. I haven’t got all day.’ He bit out and with a disgruntled twist of her mouth she placed her slim hand in his.

Gripping her tightly, Lambert hauled her up and into the saddle in front of him. She was surprisingly light, considering she had managed to pin him down during their first fight. Her slim body fit easily in front of him, the top of her head brushing against his chin. Shifting slightly in the saddle so he was pressed against her back, and his arms could reach the reins, he was immediately hit with her scent. The stench of farm animal, predominantly ox, and the harsh smell of sulphur swirled around her, but from this close those less than pleasant smells were undercut by something else. Taking a deep breath, he identified the scent of dry earth after a long-awaited storm. It was sweet and slightly metallic, yet oddly comforting. 

‘Are you…smelling my hair?’ Her voice snapped him out of his musings. His face flushed with sudden chagrin, and his hands tightened on the reins.

‘Well, it’s kinda’ hard not to with your head right under my nose.’ She didn’t turn to look at him, but he felt the slight vibration against his chest as she chuckled quietly.

‘Pervert.’ She said under her breath, the hint of laughter in her voice. 

Kicking Whoreson on a little too forcefully, Lambert spurred him to a speedy canter. The wind rushing past his head and the road being eaten up beneath his mount’s hooves felt good after days of tiresome plodding. He tightened his grip on the girl in front of him, making sure she stayed seated amid the exuberant rocking of his horse; although she was sitting it rather well. He was certain at this pace they would reach the towns on the outskirt of the city by nightfall, but the increased pace and new passenger had a downside. 

Since the waterfall incident Lambert had been careful to keep his distance from the girl, not wanting a repeat of that strange, fiery tension between them. However, with her now pressed against him, her backside shifting back into his hips with a consistent rhythm, it was hard not to feel the atmosphere change. The heavy, static tension building like a thunderstorm gathering on the horizon. 

He focused on the road ahead, keeping his breathing as even as he could. Unable to see the demon girl’s face was excruciating, but he could tell from the rigid way she was sitting in the saddle that she was likely feeling the same as him. A memory of her intense blue eyes looking up at him from under her eyelashes, the water from the pool collecting on them like dew drops. His throat constricted dramatically and he felt his usually slow beating heart stutter. Abruptly they were thrown forward as Whoreson’s hoof caught on a stone in the road. Instinctually, he wrapped an arm around the girl’s waist, holding her to him. At the same time, she reached out and grabbed his thigh, steadying her position. 

Instant fire sprang up where his arm pushed against her torso and her hand gripped the muscle of his leg, even through his leather armour. The blood rushed from Lambert’s head and his heart picked up pace. With a jerking motion, as if he had been burnt, he removed his arm from around her. Likewise, her hand snapped back to her side and he felt her try and shuffle forward subtlety, putting more space between their bodies. They rode on in oppressive silence, neither acknowledging the still mailable tension surrounding them although it refused to disappear. It was with relief Lambert saw the beginnings of a well-kept town, the fancy stonework and cobble road the first signs of Novigrad’s borders. The road became wider, which was good as it also progressively became busier. Lambert having to weave expertly between groups of walking peasants and trundling carts towed by slow oxen. Just on the edge of the border town he found a part of the road where he could stop safely. Pulling his horse to an abrupt halt, he dismounted smoothly.

Escaping the proximity of his passenger, Lambert felt his senses returning to him. He took a moment to slow his heart rate back to its normal, glacial pace and allow the blood to return to his head. His skin still tingled with the unknown energy that had crackled between them for the entire journey but at least he could breathe clean air again. 

Blue eyes was slower to dismount, clumsily sliding off Whoreson. A chivalrous man would have offered her help but Lambert didn’t trust himself to touch her again, and a chivalrous man he was not. He stood a few steps back, his arms folded across his chest as she let out a long breath. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. Sparkling with excitement and he noted how she crossed her own arms, the exposed skin on them covered in goose bumps. 

‘That was…interesting.’ She finally said, her voice breaking. The two of them stood awkwardly on the side of the road, both unwilling to look each other in the eye. 

‘Ahem…yeah. Let’s agree not to do that again.’ Lambert replied. 

‘We did get here quicker though.’ She said. 

The witcher grunted, feeling the last effects of their strange ride fading. ‘Not sure it was worth it.’ He cast a glance at the road into town where passers-by were giving them odd looks. A witcher and a strange, half-dressed girl stood in a main thoroughfare, acting like they had been caught having an affair was likely drawing all the wrong attention.

Assessing his surroundings Lambert judged they were on the other side of the Pontar; the buildings a small collection of houses and shops. The smell of fish strong in the air. This was a main route into Novigrad and the traffic flowing past them was only increasing. Traders and merchants pushing carts and carrying their wares gave them curious glances as they trudged past. Fishermen heading to their boats on the Pontar river, women tugging a string of screaming offspring behind them as they hurried past. They cast their eyes over Lambert and with obvious panic, pulled their children away. Witcher, child stealer, that’s what he was to them.

A few rough looking men, likely more mercenaries coming to Novigrad from the frontline, stared openly at Blue eyes. Their leering smiles widening as they looked her up and down. A swell of icy anger hit Lambert as he glared back at them. A few noticed and sneered, only adding fuel to the cold fire within him. 

‘There are a lot of people here Lambert.’ Her abnormally timid voice pulled his attention away from the thugs and onto her. She was stood very close to his horse, her arms still crossed but her eyes darted from person to person. There was a nervous tension in her posture that he hadn’t seen before, not when she faced an angry mob, a murderous water hag or a gigantic griffin. Faced with a crowd of curiously staring people however and she appeared to be shrinking before his eyes. She really was an oddity. 

‘It’s a city, there are going to be lots of people.’ He said, giving her a funny look. ‘I thought you came from one?’ 

‘I do. But people tend to ignore me there.’ As she said this she took a step back, closer to him. Reflexively Lambert stepped away. The last thing they needed was another episode of weird animalistic tension. ‘Do we really need to go through here? I’m getting freaked out by all the people staring at us.’ 

‘I need supplies, and as I’m low on funds I also need some contracts. Sorry, Blue eyes, I’m afraid we’ll be here a few days at least.’ His tone was off-hand but he actually meant his apology. The demon seemed to be really fearful of the people around her all of a sudden. He rubbed a hand over his face. ‘Look. Why don’t you stay out here to begin with? I can go and look for work and supplies on my own, I usually do it solo anyway. Don’t need you tagging along like a bad smell when I’m trying to charm the locals.’ 

The grateful look she gave him despite his insult made his insides squeeze and he had to quickly avert his gaze again. Whatever was going on between them he had to put a stop to it. ‘You don’t mind leaving me on my own again? All I seem to do is get into trouble.’ 

His hand moved to the back of his neck and he turned away. ‘Yeah, I know you do. Just…try and lay low this time. Novigrad is the wrong place to kick up a shit storm, believe me.’ He found a quiet lane leading off the main thoroughfare and followed it. It wound its way past some smaller houses, their stonework less fancy, then passing through a small copse of tress they came to an abandoned, crumbling building. The rustic stone walls and fronting of the place alluded to it being some kind of farm house. The un-shuttered windows stared blankly out at them as they approached. It looked like no one had live here for a long time, and judging by the overgrown weeds no one had cared for the place either. It was a miracle no monsters had decided to nest here. Well, now there was one. Instead of grumbling about the less than savoury accommodation, the girl immediately squeezed through the partially blocked doorway. 

‘This is better. Thank you, Lambert.’ He blinked as she said his name and he pushed himself through the gap, with a little more trouble than she had.

‘S’okay. Just keep quiet.’ He said, regarding her huddled form, hunkered down in one corner. Her knees pulled tight to her chest. What had shaken her so much? Choosing not to press her, everyone had their fears and secrets, but still frowning, he assembled a small pile of kindling and ignited it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her wince slightly as he cast the sign. 

‘I’ll be back at sundown.’ He shot at her over his shoulder as he left the shack. Tying his horse to a rotting gate post he mumbled to the beast, ‘Keep an eye on her, okay?’ Whoreson’s ears flicked to his master, and he gave a low snort which Lambert took as an agreement to his command. ‘Talking to your horse, you’re getting more like Geralt every day you idiot.’ He muttered to himself as he adjusted his swords and headed back towards the town.

It took a bit of time, more than he’d like, wandering around the small fishing town to find a notice board. His irritation built as even with the drawn out search his efforts didn’t yield much, there were a few requests for cart rental and someone telling a person called Fredrick to stop fishing in his spot, but nothing that resembled a lucrative monster contract. He guessed this close to Novigrad there were more than a few mercenaries or witch hunters to fulfil most needs in that regard, but still…nothing? 

With a disgruntled huff he turned to look for a tavern or somewhere to get any kind of stiff drink. His eyes landed on a building that was taller than most of its surrounding counterparts. It was tucked away in a seedy looking alley, but there were a few horses and carts parked outside the place. There was no sign, but Lambert could hear the sound of shouting and clanking tankards even from here. Deciding that he may find work in amongst the patronage, whilst also wetting his parched throat, he made his way towards it. As he came closer two of the animals tied up outside caught his attention. A striking black, Kaedweni stallion which stood a good few hands above the other mounts, and next to it a gentle, looking bay mare who noticed his approach and gave a low whinny of greeting.

‘Hey there Roach.’ Lambert murmured back, as he patted the mare’s neck. ‘Your master inside? Better go say hello.’ He left the two horses and entered the shady looking establishment, stepping over a passed out drunk in the doorway as he did.

The smell of ale, sweat and fish hit him like a wall, and he grimaced as he scanned the crowded tavern for his brothers. It didn’t take him long to single them out, in amongst the fishermen and traders, they stood out like trolls at a tea party. The dark haired one noticed him first, his badly scarred face lifting in recognition. He nudged the more conspicuous white-haired man next to him, who gave Lambert a wry smile as he raised his tankard in welcome. 

‘Why can’t I go five minutes without running into your pale ass? The continent’s meant to be vast, but obviously not fucking vast enough.’ He jibed, parting the densely packed patrons as he moved towards their table.

‘Must be my natural magnetism. Works on witchers as well as women.’ Geralt shot back, his smile growing as Lambert rolled his eyes dramatically, sitting opposite the pair. 

Eskel let out a low chuckle eyeing their new drinking partner sceptically. ‘What brings you here Lambert, thought you hated Novigrad?’

‘I do. But needs must and coin is low, yah dah yah dah, you know the deal.’ He waved at a passing barmaid, she gave the occupants of their table a fearful look as she hovered uncertainly near them. Lambert noticed bitterly that her eyes lingered on Geralt longer than him or Eskel, her ruddy cheeks colouring markedly. 

‘What can I get ya?’ She asked, her voice nervous. 

‘An ale please.’ He bit out, his annoyance seeping into his tone more than he would have liked. The maid gave a hurried nod and scurried away, clearly flustered. 

Geralt snorted into his own drink. ‘Coin is low, but not low enough to stop drinking.’ 

‘I’ve had a hard few days alright _White wolf._ ’Lambert spat, ‘Challenging even for your legendary prowess I imagine.’ At this Geralt’s eyebrows lifted, and he gave Eskel an amused look.

‘Oh, yes? Do tell. You know I love stories.’ Lambert’s eyes narrowed.

‘As much as I’d enjoy showing you up for once, I’ve got other business to attend to.’ 

Now Eskel leant forward, his expression mocking. ‘Don’t hold out on us brother, you’re not the mysterious type.’ 

Sitting back, Lambert folded his arms across his chest. These two were the closest thing to family he had, but gods damn it they were annoying when they were together…and drinking. As if on cue, his own ale was delivered by the nervy barmaid. She placed it in front of him, giving an odd half bow, half curtsy and disappeared again with a quick backward glance at Geralt. 

‘Natural magnetism.’ Lambert muttered into his tankard as he raised it to his lips. Both Geralt and Eskel let out barks of laughter, the latter hitting his shoulder playfully. The motion jogged his hand, and he sloshed a third of his ale onto the table in the process.

‘Look what you fucking whoresons made me do!’ He yelled, slamming the now lighter tankard down. His outburst only provoked his brothers to laugh louder, Eskel slapping Geralt’s back. He glowered at the pair of them, until eventually they calmed down, Eskel wiping a tear from his eye.

‘I’ll give you this Lambert, you do give us a good laugh.’ 

‘Glad I can be of service.’ He said, his voice thick with sarcasm. Geralt eyed him thoughtfully, his face settling back into its usual stoic expression.

‘You headed to Kaer Morhen after here? The pass will be closing within the month.’ Lambert nodded, keeping his face strategically blank. He trusted his brother wolves but revealing his uninvited guest right now wouldn’t be the best tactic. Best to break it to them gently. 

‘Me and Geralt were going to go together. You fancy tagging along?’ Eskel said. ‘That is…if you don’t think we’ll cramp your style.’ He held up his hands, his mouth twitching up at the corners. Without the brutal, violent looking scars across his face Lambert was certain Eskel would have been considered handsome, but the unfortunate events that had led to their creation deformed his lips, making his smile look more like a grimace. 

‘Nah, you couldn’t cramp it even if you wanted to. But I think I’ll go alone if you don’t mind. Got some errands to run here first.’ 

‘If it’s contracts you’re looking for, you’re shit out of luck.’ Eskel said, taking a swig of ale. 

‘I saw the board outside. Nothing but hand me downs and pissing contests.’ Lambert said, his heart sinking. If he had hoped to find work in here, the presence of two witchers also without contracts didn’t bode well. 

‘We asked around and apparently the last one was taken a few days ago.’ Geralt stated. He nodded towards a surly bartender, casting warning glares around the crowded tavern. ‘The innkeeper said there was a contract on some kind of demon in the form of a girl. Attacked some mercenaries outside Ursten near a week ago. Didn’t kill ‘em but beat them up pretty bad. They put a price on its head, claiming it had superhuman strength and speed. My thinking is, some thugs got taken out by a girl and didn’t want to admit it.’ He grinned at Lambert, ‘Shame someone already took it, reckon you might have had a shot with a woman like that.’ 

Eskel laughed at the White wolf’s joke but Lambert’s blood had turned cold. It was Blue eyes. The contract had been for her, no question. 

‘Someone took it you said. Was it a band of witch hunters or just some fool hardy peasants?’ Geralt gave him an odd look. The arrogant smirk that most believed was permanently fixed to Lambert’s face had disappeared, and there was no mistaking the serious edge to his words. 

‘Neither. It was another witcher.’ 

His stomach dropped. Shit, witch hunters and mercenaries were one thing, but a witcher. He needed to get Blue eyes out of here and fast. Downing the rest of his ale Lambert stood up abruptly. Geralt and Eskel cast a look at each other before following their brother’s suit. 

‘I know you’re eager for money, but stepping on another witcher’s contract-‘ Eskel began diplomatically.

‘I’m not trying to snag the contract Eskel. I just…have things to do.’ One setback of having brother’s in arms was their ability to pick up when he was hiding something. As he turned to go, Geralt’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Lambert froze.

‘Let go of me.’ He growled. Feeling his panic for Blue eyes stoke his imminent explosion. 

‘What’s going on Lambert?’ Geralt’s tone was harsh and left no room for argument. He gave the younger witcher a warning look as Lambert glared over his shoulder at him. 

‘I need to go. Something just came up.’ Eskel stepped around the table so he was stood next to him. A few of the nearby patrons had paused in their drinking and were watching the trio of witchers cautiously. 

‘Something involving this demon? You seem really fucking eager to leave since we told you about it.’ Lambert stared them both down for a moment but he knew them well enough to see they weren’t about to back down.

‘Fine. Come outside though. Don’t want to talk about it in here.’ He kept his voice low as he spoke, ensuring only their sensitive ears could hear him over the racket of the tavern. Geralt and Eskel shared a brief look, then nodded. The three of them exited, the crowd parting easily at the sight of a group of witchers approaching them. Coming out onto the small side street, Lambert cast a furtive look around. His senses jumping with pent up energy. He was eager to be done with this so he could head back to Blue eyes and ensure she was still safe. 

‘Talk.’ Geralt said as soon as they saw they were alone. Lambert narrowed his eyes at him.

‘I’m not a Redanian guard you’re questioning Geralt. Back the fuck off.’ The pair of them folded their arms, Lambert’s mood appearing spikier than usual. He let out a sound of frustration and rubbed his face with his hand. ‘I know the girl in the contract, okay. I’m travelling with her.’ 

The look of shock on both their faces should have made him laugh. It was a rare occurrence that these seasoned monster hunters were caught off guard, but in his state of heightened agitation he barely smirked at their response.

‘A demon girl? Clearly we underestimated your own natural magnetism Lambert.’ Eskel said, glancing around. ‘But…where is she?’ 

Lambert sneered at him, his patience running dangerously low. ‘Obviously not here, you fucking… _pillock._ ’ He didn’t know where the foreign swear word had come from, it had just popped out. Eskel held up his hands, confusion etched on his scarred face.

‘Okay, I’m sorry. So, who is she?’ 

‘Firstly, none of your business, and secondly, every second I’m here explaining this shit to you, another witcher is hunting her down. So, if you don’t mind, I need to go.’ 

‘Fine.’ Geralt said, his expression hard. ‘Where is she?’ 

Lambert gave him a sideways look. ‘You’re not coming with me.’ 

The White wolf snorted, already turning to untie Roach. ‘Hate to break this to you, but we _are_ coming with you. And you can tell us the story on the way.’ 

The younger witcher ground his teeth together as his brother began to walk away. Eskel gave him a shrug and gathered up Scorpion’s reins. ‘Better get going if you’re in a hurry.’ 

Lambert watched them walk away, then letting out a growl of frustration ran to catch up so he could lead them to their hiding place. He just hoped this other witcher didn’t have too much of a head start on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to all my new readers, we've reached double digits! Hope you're all still enjoying this little tale, and the appearance of some familiar faces in this chapter. ;) Things are about to start ramping up. See you all in another week. Please read, review and enjoy! :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning that there is the suggestion of assault in this chapter, just to be aware if this is upsetting to you.

Chapter 11

Ellie stared into the fire Lambert had left her, a feeling of unexplained dread and fear washing over her in waves. She wasn’t entirely sure why she had freaked out so much earlier; maybe it had been her heightened emotions from that tense, sexually charged ride, or the fact that everyone had begun to stare the minute they got off Horse. Or maybe it was the tickling, insistent feeling that they were being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck rising and that subconscious feeling in her gut warning her to get to cover. _Fast_.

She had looked around for the mysterious watcher as Lambert led them away from the road, but all she’d seen was a sea of curious eyes. No one staring at her with an intensity that would warrant her flight or fight instinct being triggered. As soon as they had come upon the abandoned house, she had ducked inside and pushed herself into the farthest corner. Trying to dispel the unnerving sensation. A pang of guilt had shot through her at Lambert’s somewhat confused but largely concerned expression. She should've told him, but after their awkward ride here she was worried her fear of a phantom stalker would just destroy the tentative relationship they had even further.

He had lit her a fire, the peculiar ringing piercing her head as he did his magic, and had reassured he would be back soon. Strangely, as soon as he had left the miserable shack she was cowering in she had wanted him back more than anything. Instead of feeling safer from the invisible watcher, she felt more exposed. Lost and afraid in this strange land, without her annoying, brash travel companion. Hugging her knees to her chest, she shrank into the dark corner of the tumbled down house and waited for him to return. 

She listened to the fire spitting and crackling, and the sound of Horse’s deep breathing as he grazed contentedly outside. _Calm down Ellie, it’s all fine. They can’t find you here._ Her scare in the street had dragged up memories of being hunted. Of men chasing her through a dark wood, her brother crying in great gasping sobs as she dragged him behind her. She could feel their eyes on her back as she ran, the hair rising on her scalp, adrenaline shooting through her veins as she pushed her legs faster. But she was never fast enough, and they always caught her.

‘Breath Ellie, breathe.’ She panted to herself. If she had a heartbeat it would be pounding right now, as if in sympathy her chest throbbed in a steady two-time rhythm. She could try to make a door. She could try and get back to the familiarity of her world, but again, Lambert’s concerned eyes popped into her mind. Oh, how she wished he was here, distracting her with his snarky comments and stupid, arrogant face. 

Horse abruptly stopped eating, the sound of his munching cutting off right before she saw his head appear in what used to be a window as he lifted it, ears pricked. Her body tensed, and she strained to hear what had caught his attention. Past the crackling fire, past the call of the birds and the sounds of life in the nearby town, she heard the faintest sound of leaves rustling and someone’s feather light footsteps as they approached. Fear instantly gripped her. Was this her phantom watcher? They were far too quiet to be a normal person, and the only other person she knew who could move that silently was Lambert. But why would he be creeping up on her?

Horse gave a low nicker, his ears swivelling violently on his head. Listening again Ellie zeroed in on the approaching footsteps, now that she was aware of their approach she could easily pick out the shuffle of feet in dried leaves and the creak of leather armour.

 _Get up you coward. Move._ She commanded herself, forcing her arms to release her knees. She had fought off monsters and men alike since coming here, not to mention all the horrors she had already faced in her own world. But the memory of that frightened girl running through the woods kept resurfacing. Straightening up, she crept silently towards the blocked doorway of the house. Horse gave a little start as she poked her head out, his eyes rolling in his head. Whomever it was coming to their hideout Horse wasn’t a fan. Ellie tried to swallow the last of her fear as she squeezed out of the house. Being trapped in that place was the last thing she wanted. 

Giving Horse a reassuring pat to calm him down, Ellie surreptitiously stuck her hand in one of the saddle bags. Keeping her ears trained on the sound of footsteps as she did so, she moved her hand around searching for one of Lambert’s many bombs. Maybe a loud explosion would scare them off. Man, he had a lot of crap stored in them. She pushed aside a hundred glass vials, being careful not to clink them too loudly, an assortment of what felt like body parts of some kind and various bits of food. She would have to talk to him about organising these when he came back, it was hard to imagine how he survived with bags like this. 

It was about half way through this process that she realised she had lost track of the footsteps. She froze, adrenaline coursing through her as she desperately tried to pin point her stalker again. She couldn’t be sure it was them but that horrible, tingling feeling was creeping up the back of her neck and her gut clenched as an abnormal silence fell over the place. Almost as if everything were holding its breath. Not being able to die should've made her fearless, but she knew all too well there were worse things you could do to someone than kill them.

A faint click and high pitch whistle proceeded sudden fiery pain in one of her calves, as a projectile was launched from an unseen place amongst the trees. Ellie fell against Horse, gritting her teeth together as the crippling feeling grew, a quiet grunt escaping her despite her best efforts. Gripping onto the saddle, she half turned to look down at the source of the discomfort. A short arrow shaft was sticking out of the muscle of her calf, dark blood already trickling down her leg in streams. It looked like it might have come from a crossbow, and that would explain the click she had heard. 

Glancing around wildly, she could feel her senses leaving her in her panic. She needed to get out of the open. She needed to find her attacker, but most of all…she needed to get this damn bolt out of her leg. As she was deciding her next move another click and whistle came from somewhere to her right. Turning towards the sound she saw the tiniest glint of light on steel, then another blast of pain to her other leg. This time, she fell completely to her knees, Horse let out a harsh whinny as she slid down his side. Her eyes narrowed as she looked to the shadows where she was sure the bolt had come from, and opening her nostrils, took in a deep breath. 

Wood, earth, leaves, decay…sweat, leather and…there it was, human blood mixed with what smelt like lemongrass. Pinpointing her attacker wasn’t good enough though, she was still immobilised. Twisting slightly, she grabbed one of the wooden shafts sticking out her legs and attempted to pull it free. The pain tripled and amid the haze she heard a distant voice murmur, ‘No you don’t.’ Then her attacker was on her.

He slammed into her with such abrupt force that Ellie had no time to react. Whoever this guy was he was quick, quicker than Lambert certainly. Clamping a hand around her mouth, he stopped her from trying to pry the crossbow bolt free and held her wrist in an iron grip. ‘Don’t struggle now.’ 

The voice was hot in her ear, and there was an edge to it that Ellie _really_ didn’t like. The hand blocking her mouth moved to grip her chin, pulling her head round to an uncomfortable angle so he could look at her. She got a glimpse of a bald head, clean shaven face, thin downturned lips and glowing amber eyes with black slits for pupils. She felt her flesh prickle underneath his touch, an ominous swirling in her gut as she took in his strange, yet eerily familiar features. 

‘Scar over one eye, blue eyes and short, tailored trousers. You fit the description.’ He said.

‘You’re a witcher.’ She gasped out, struggling to pull away from him, but the surprise attack and the awkward position he had her in was making it hard. 

His mouth turned up into a nasty grin. ‘That I am darling. Unfortunately for you.’ Her flesh crawled at his twisted, term of endearment and the fear she had managed to suppress overwhelmed her. She began to pull against the grip he had on her wrist, her animal instinct to get away taking over all reason. The witcher tensed against her fighting, the grin dropping from his face.

‘Hey now, I thought I told you not to struggle.’ His voice was acidic as he let go of her and gave one of the bolts a vicious twist. Ellie heard herself scream as it tore into her muscle. Her body convulsing, trying to get to the point of pain and stop it by any means. However, her head was still held firmly in one of his hands, her neck pulled to an extreme angle. He looked down at her angrily. With a violent shove he pushed her flat to the ground, placing his knees on her legs, right where her wounds hurt the most. Then taking both her hands in his he held them either side of her head, pinning them into the dirt.

Ellie was reminded of a similar situation. One where a man pushed her to the ground roughly, her nightdress rucked up around her thighs, her brother’s screams echoing in her ears. Unable to move from pure terror. Helpless and useless. A small whimper escaped her throat as she felt his weight push down on her. She could get him off, she was stronger than him. Despite her words of encouragement her body didn’t respond. Remaining crushed beneath this unfamiliar man.

_Should’ve got out while you had the chance. Shouldn’t have let your curiosity get the better of you._

‘You don’t look like a demon, but a jobs a job.’ Another sob broke from her, and he felt her attacker lean down so his face was hovering just by her ear. ‘Now, now. It’ll be over soon. But no one said I couldn’t have some fun with you first.’ 

The bile rose in her throat as she felt the tip of his nose skim her neck, inhaling deeply. He made a noise of disgust and lifted away from her slightly. ‘No offence darling, but you stink. Maybe those idiots were right, you don’t smell human.’ 

Her brain was so muddle with fear and panic that she barely registered his voice talking to her anymore. She was slipping away, retreating to somewhere safer. For some reason, right in that moment, Lambert’s face came to mind. His expression fixed in that mixture of sarcasm and disdain he always wore, his eyebrow raised at something she had just said. Then, as if to complete the illusion, she heard his snarky voice, far off, like he was down a well.

‘What do you think you’re doing pal?’ 

Through the ground Ellie suddenly felt unmistakable vibrations of three sets of feet, sprinting towards them. Did he have reinforcements? Ellie’s heart sank as the new arrivals came to a stop a few feet from them. She couldn’t see who they were, as her head was pressed into the ground facing away from them. Although, she wasn’t sure she wanted to see them. Lambert’s voice came into her head again, this time louder and closer.

‘This how you deal with all your contracts cat? I suggest you let the girl up.’ Ellie frowned in confusion. It seemed like an odd choice of words for her imaginary witcher to be saying. Then her attacker spoke, replying to his question. 

‘Fuck off wolf. I already got this one. Why don’t you and your buddies find your own contract?’ 

Using what little strength, she could muster, she pushed against the unknown witcher’s crushing weight. Managing to raise her shoulders just enough, she turned her head so she could see who he was talking to. From this angle she could see three pairs of armoured feet, two she didn’t recognise but one was wearing a familiar black leather trimmed with red.

‘Lambert?’ She said, her voice a muffled gasp due to her restricted chest. 

‘Yeah, it’s me Blue eyes. Has this asshole hurt you?’ A wave of relief flooded through her at the sound of his arrogant voice. She could feel her eyes prickling with tears as she replied in a shaky, emotional voice.

‘A little. Nothing…I can’t handle though.’ One of the hands holding her down lifted and shoved her head further into the dirt. An audible growl came from the feet belonging to Lambert. 

‘Shut it bitch. And you lot…turn around and piss off. This is _my_ contract, and I’m the one that’s taking her in.’ One of the new sets of feet took a step forward so they were next to Lambert’s boots. A deep, gruff voice came from somewhere near head height, his words level and calm.

‘Three on one, and my friend asked you to let the girl up. I suggest you listen.’ The hand that had driven her head into the dirt was still gripping her skull, his fingers digging into her scalp. He took a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back. A shooting pain ran from her head down her spine, causing her to grimace. Through the veil of tears, she got a better look of the three men stood in the shadows of the trees. One was Lambert, his face twisted into a mask of rage. The same amber eyes she had seen in the stranger’s face, trained onto her attacker with pin sharp focus. 

Slightly to his right stood the gruff voiced man; he stood a few inches taller than Lambert, his armour a different make but still constructed of leather, he had a full beard and long hair pulled back at the sides like hers. There were two deep scars on his face, one across his forehead and one down his left eye. The most striking thing however, was his hair which was a brilliant snow white, as if he were an elderly man but the lines and set of his face stated otherwise. His own amber eyes were looking straight at her, his expression guarded. 

Behind both him and Lambert was another man, another set of amber eyes. This one had distinctive red, metal studded armour, two swords strapped to his back and a high turned up collar like Lambert’s. A shaggy mop of brown hair framed his face which was significantly marked by a series of scars that cut across his features and twisted his lip on one side, giving him a permanent sneer. Despite his macabre appearance, Ellie sensed a gentleness and patience about him that was at odds with his two companions. He stared at her with a worried expression. 

Her thoughts were abruptly dragged from Lambert’s entourage by her attacker, yanking her head again viciously. ‘You’re really gonna’ fight me over this? We’re brothers. Brothers don’t steal from each other.’ 

Lambert took another step towards them, his eyes blazing with an anger she hadn’t seen in them before. ‘Exactly. And she was with me first, so I’ll say it again, real slow so you get it through your thick skull. Let…the girl…up.’ 

‘Lambert.’ The white haired one said in a low voice, placing a hand on his arm. He shrugged it off, his lips curling up into a sneer. His eyes never left the man on top of her. 

‘I wouldn’t recommend attacking me right now. Might catch your girlfriend in the cross fire.’ Lambert’s fists clenched but he froze in place, his furious gaze finally snapping down to look at her. Something in that moment clicked inside Ellie. The witcher’s face was fixed in its livid sneer, but his eyes were desperate, looking at her in helpless anger. 

Lifting her free hand, she formed a claw with her upturned fingers, creating a cage of sorts with them. Gritting her teeth, she did her best to focus past the pain in her head and legs, and past the paralysing fear that had rendered her useless before. The day was fine and clear, the clouds few and far between but even in this tranquil calm she found the static energy that perpetually existed in the air. Drawing on it, she channelled it towards the Faraday cage she had made with her fingers. She hadn’t attempted to do this since her parlour trick for Mr Deer head, and this time she was trying to summon a lot more electricity. Beads of sweat began to form on her brow, as the tiny electric sparks coalesced out of the air and leapt from finger to finger, until she had a ghostly ball of static energy captured in her palm. 

She felt her attacker shift as he sensed the change in atmosphere, the air growing hot and metallic around them. Satisfied she had gathered all she could without passing out from the effort, she steadied her breathing and relaxed the muscles in her body. Feeling his captive go limp under him, combined with the alarming shift in air, the unknown witcher let out a confused, ‘What the-‘

Ellie opened her fingers, releasing the captured energy through her body in a rush and into her attacker. There was a flash and the smell of burning hair, then the weight that had been crushing her abruptly lifted and she was able to sit up. Turning her head, Ellie gave a satisfied smirk as she saw the unknown witcher sprawled against the wall of the abandoned house, an enraged but bemused expression on his face, curls of fine smoke drifting up from his armour. 

‘What the fuck?!’ He shouted, springing to his feet. She rose slower, mainly due to the two crossbow bolts still lodged in her calves. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lambert also smirking at the other witcher’s sudden change in circumstances. Then his attention switched to her legs and he let out a low curse. 

Ellie’s eyes flicked to him reflexively and in that moment the unknown witcher leapt at her. Despite his recent shock, he still moved with an incredible speed. She was only vaguely aware of him moving towards her before his fist connected with her temple, sending black stars dancing in front of her eyes. She staggered back but refused to be knocked down a second time. Bracing her injured legs so she could stay upright. Before he could launch another attack, a large black and red leather clad body inserted itself between them. With a resounding thud, Lambert’s fist slammed into the side of the witcher’s face. He leapt away, clutching his face where Lambert had hit him, his eyes glinting menacingly.

‘You’ll regret that.’ He spat. ‘Both of you.’ 

From behind Lambert, Ellie got her first good look at her assailant. There was the bald head, thin mouth and amber cat eyes she had glimpsed before, and like the other three men he had a scar on his left cheek. The signs of a witcher that she was becoming increasingly familiar with. His armour was fairly distinct, he had on a leather jerkin but his arms were exposed, only a short sleeve shirt covering his upper arms. He had his two swords strapped to his back, along with the crossbow he had used to attack her. Around his neck was a medallion like Lambert’s, except his was adorned with a cat’s head instead of a wolf. 

'Don't you fucking touch her.' Lambert growled. The witcher narrowed his eyes at him. The muscles in his arms flexed as he squared off with Lambert, his hand still rubbing the place where he had been punched. His eyes flicked to the side as the two men that had arrived with Lambert moved so they too stood in the way of his target.

Ellie took the turn in tables to pull out the two protruding bolts from her legs. With a sickening sucking sound and a hiss of pain she freed the first one, discarding it with a flick of her wrist. She saw Lambert and his friends glance at her as she began to remove the second one. Pulling the barbed head free she threw this one at her attacker's feet. Rubbing the congealing blood away from the wound, she could feel the flesh stitching itself back together, as her abnormal ability took effect. She was aware of every one, apart from Lambert's, eyes widening slightly at the sight. He gave her a cursory look before turning his attention back to the unknown witcher.

The witcher glared at the three men now in his way. 'So, what now? You going to fight me? If you mean to defend this monster from me, then draw your steel brothers.' The tension between them rose as they stared each other down. White hair gave Ellie a long, lingering look before taking a step forward and placing his hand on Lambert's shoulder. This time he wasn't shrugged off.

‘Calm yourself. Drawing blood now is only going to bring trouble.’ Her attacker smirked. 

‘Listen to your white-haired friend, wolf. Don’t throw everything away on a good lay.’ Even from behind Ellie saw Lambert’s entire body tense as he saw red. Her own temper flared at the unknown witcher’s mocking tone, and his lude assumptions. As Lambert’s hand moved to his sword she made her way to his other side, so now nothing stood between her and her assailant. 

‘Not that it’s any of your business, but he did take out the contract on me first.’ 

‘What are you doing Blue eyes?’ Lambert hissed angrily, from the side of his mouth. His hand was frozen on its way to its sword, the white hair witcher was giving her another long look. 

‘Not according to the ealdorman who gave it to me.’ The unknown witcher’s tone was dangerous as his eyes met hers. 

‘Who’s to say there wasn’t more than one contract on my head… _witcher.’_ As she said this, her lips pulled back from her teeth in a menacing grin, the word coming out with a slight snarl. He looked taken aback for a moment before casting an arrogant look over the group, his thin mouth twisting into a smarmy smile. 

‘A monster defending its killer. Well, now I’ve seen everything.’ Taking a step back, he relaxed his tense pose. ‘I know when I’m beaten at least. You can say a lot of things about Gaetan from the School of the Cat, but a foolhardy, idiot I am not.’ Lambert let out a loud snort. 

‘Nice to meet you too, now fuck off.’ Gaetan gave him a hard stare. Ellie didn’t like anything about him, but the deadly glint in his eye as he looked at Lambert she disliked the most. 

‘I’ll leave…for now. But this isn’t over.’ Giving one last look to the three witchers stood around her, he turned to Ellie and pointed a finger at her. His amber eyes burning with a cold hatred. ‘I’ll see _you_ again. I promise that.’ 

With that he turned on his heels and disappeared into the shadows of the trees, melting away as if he had never been there. The group stood motionless for a few moments before Ellie felt the men next to her break out of their tense positions and begin to turn to one another. As the wave of rage and adrenaline wore off, she found herself frozen in place, staring after her attacker. The thought of what might have been if Lambert had not arrived in time making her limbs shake with terror. She could hear the witchers talking but her brain wasn’t focusing on any of them, until a rough hand grabbed her arm and shook her causing her to flinch away automatically.

‘…and what the hell were you thinking you crazy ass demon? We had it under control, you didn’t need to do…whatever the fuck it was you did to him.’ Ellie looked at Lambert who was shouting at her with dazed eyes. His expression was pure fury, but she was vaguely aware that the grip he had on her wasn’t as hard as it could have been. Looking past him she could see the two strangers that had rushed to her aid staring at them both with curious expressions. 

‘Pay attention when I’m fucking mad at you.’ Lambert gave her another, not too hard, shake and she focused back on him.

‘I needed to get him off me.’ She said, her voice quiet compared to the witcher’s insistent shouting. Despite this Lambert heard the uncharacteristic fear in her tone and loosened his grip, casting an assessing eye over her. He pulled her closer to him so her face was only a few inches from his, and spoke to her in a low voice.

‘Did he _do_ anything to you Blue eyes?’ There was a quietness to his words that sounded scarier to her than all the shouting he had been doing seconds before. A silent promise for retribution if he didn’t like her answer. She shook her head, closing her eyes as she tried to get rid of this silly fear. 

‘No. No, you got here just in time.’ His grip hardened for a fraction of a second then he let her go, turning away to face his friends. 

‘All fine. No thanks to you two, waylaying me.’ He said sardonically. Letting out a shaky breath Ellie pushed the encounter to the back of her mind and instead focused on Lambert’s sudden entourage. What she hadn’t noticed before, being in the middle of a heated exchange, was that all three men wore the same wolf’s head medallion around their necks.

‘Quite the interesting situation you’ve got yourself in Lambert. Even for you.’ The brown haired, scarred one grinned at him. Lambert crossed his arms, his familiar arrogant sneer back in place.

‘Well, when you find an un-killable demon Eskel, get back to me and we’ll compare notes.’ The witcher called Eskel laughed, his disfigured face suddenly transforming so Ellie could see the handsome features he once had peeking through.

‘Demon’s aren’t a laughing matter. They can be dangerous and conniving. You sure you know what you’re doing?’ White hair said, his expression serious. 

‘As always Geralt, your superior knowledge is welcomed, but I’m not some rookie just starting on the Path. As you can see the demon hasn’t killed me yet?’ Ellie recoiled slightly. Somehow, hearing him refer to her as a demon as if she wasn’t there affected her more than the others doing it. She would have even preferred Blue eyes over that.

‘Half demon.’ She said, her voice still not quite at full volume. It didn’t matter however as all three pair of amber eyes turned to her.

‘Pardon me?’ Eskel said, his tone polite. 

Ellie took a tentative step forward so she was no longer partly hidden by Lambert. She could feel his eyes on her, burning into the side of her face. ‘I’m half demon. I told Lambert, but he seems to keep forgetting.’ She glanced at him. ‘And I don’t want to kill anyone. I can’t.’ 

Eskel and Geralt both stared at her in fascination, as if they were examining an unknown species. Beside her she heard a heavy sigh, then a dismissive voice followed it. ‘She does this a lot. Speaks in riddles.’

Her sharp glare didn’t go unnoticed by the other two. She saw Eskel grinning out of the corner of her eye. ‘ _Excuse_ me. I’ve been nothing but honest with you.’ 

‘Honest to a _point._ You didn’t tell me you were half human until a water hag outed you, and you didn’t tell me about your crazy lightning magic…well, at all.’ 

‘I did that to get the fucker off me. It’s not something I’ve kept hidden, I just didn’t see a need to tell you.’

‘That’s the very definition of keeping something hidden. You _hid_ it by not telling me.’ 

‘Well, if you didn’t keep leaving me alone with Horse all the time, maybe I wouldn’t have to keep fighting every monster and man that wanted a piece of me. Wasn’t I supposed to be _your_ prisoner?!’

‘Stop calling him fucking _Horse_!’ 

Their voices had increased with every barbed word and jibe until they were stood toe to toe practically screaming into each other’s faces, oblivious to the two spectators. A loud, deliberate cough broke them apart, both of them whipping round to glare at the interruption. Geralt raised an eyebrow slowly at them, in a gesture that wasn’t dissimilar to Lambert’s own look of scepticism.

‘Are you two finished?’ He asked in his steady, gruff voice. Ellie felt her face heat up under the serious, but slightly amused eyes of both Geralt and Eskel. Ducking her head, she worried her lip, unsure where that outburst had come from. She just hadn’t liked being talked about as if she wasn’t there, but now that the last of the adrenaline had left her she suddenly felt exhausted. 

‘Yeah, we’re done.’ Lambert said. She saw his feet walk away and her chagrin grew. 

‘So…Why do I feel like we only got half the story on the way here?’ Eskel said, his voice was softer than Geralt’s and it held some of that gentleness that Ellie had sensed in him before. There were the beginnings of a chuckle in his words and she could practically hear Lambert grinding his teeth. Weren’t they meant to be friends? Seemed like Lambert just wanted them gone. 

‘Because I didn’t have time on the way here to give you fuckers the unedited saga, was kind of in a rush.’ Lambert’s voice came from further away, and glancing up she saw him moving some of wooden beams blocking the door to the abandoned house. With a determined shove they fell to one side with a thud. The witcher then disappeared inside and she heard him crashing around and cursing loudly doing Purgatory knew what. Moving to go and see what he was doing, she felt a firm but gentle hand grip her shoulder. Turning her head, she saw the hand belonged to Eskel, his amber eyes appearing softer in colour to the others. His scarred mouth pulled into a cautious half smile, half grimace.

‘I’d leave him if I were you. He needs to get it out of his system.’ Frowning, Ellie looked back in time to see half a broken chair fly out of one window, breaking easily on the ground in front of them. Another loud curse word, this one stronger than the last, followed it from somewhere inside the house. 

‘What’s he doing?’ She asked. 

Geralt came to stand next to her, looking down at her with that neutral expression that she found oddly unnerving. ‘Lambert’s a bit…highly strung. If he doesn’t get to chop anything up after getting into a rage, he needs to vent it.’ 

‘I’ve never seen him like this.’ She murmured, eyeing the house with a still rampaging witcher inside.

‘And you’ve been with him over a week?’ Eskel said, stunned. ‘Then I’d take that as a compliment. Now, come and sit down here. You had quite a fright I bet.’ There was something about Eskel’s quiet voice and gentle touch that made Ellie relax properly for the first time since she’d landed here. He steered her over to where Horse was tied, his head up and ears pricked towards his master’s shouting. Taking Lambert’s bed roll from his back, Eskel laid it down on the floor. Without waiting for a cue Ellie sank down on it, crossing her legs on autopilot. Eskel lowered himself so he was balanced on the balls of his feet, whilst Geralt remained standing. His attention dancing between her and his friend who had now appeared to have found a lot of old furniture to smash up. 

‘How are your legs?’ Eskel began. She shifted so the backs of calves were showing, the puncture wound made by the two crossbow bolts long gone, the skin flawless and unmarked. Eskel’s eyes moved to look too, but his expression remained impassive. She could feel the gaze of Geralt burning into her still. Out of the both of them, she got the sense he trusted her the least. 

‘Fine.’ She answered lamely, the visual evidence obviously enough to answer his question. An awkward silence fell between them, during which Lambert’s raging could be heard clearly from inside the house. A flicker of worry went through Ellie. She wanted to go to him despite his friends’ assurance this was normal, his emotional outburst didn’t feel normal to her. 

‘Lambert said you can’t die.’ Eskel said, drawing her attention back to him. 

‘He did, did he?’ Ellie glanced up at Geralt, his towering form and granite hard stare beginning to unnerve her more and more. ‘He wasn’t saving face. He tried…twice.’ 

Eskel and Geralt shared another look. She had only been around these new witchers five minutes but she could tell the bond between them was extremely strong. The two in front of her communicating with no words.

‘So how did a half demon, half human from another sphere wind up travelling with a witcher?’ Eskel asked. His voice friendly but there was a razor-sharp intelligence in those eyes that didn’t fool Ellie one bit. She tilted her head, unsure how much she wanted to say without Lambert present. 

‘Didn’t he tell you? I’m stuck here and he offered to help.’ 

‘A witcher helping a demon. Sounds suspicious.’ Geralt said. Eskel looked up at him sharply but this time the white-haired man ignored his friend. ‘You got him in some kind of deal or pact?’ 

‘No. I don’t go in for that kind of thing, besides it’s only the rogue demons that go off forcing humans to do their bidding. We’re not all bad you know.’ Geralt’s eyes narrowed at her answer. 

‘Heard that said about a lot of monsters, but never demons. The stories can’t all be false.’ There was something about the way he looked and spoke to her that led her to believe he had encounter demons before; and it hadn’t been a good encounter.

‘But stories are just that…stories.’ At this there was a thunderous crash from inside the house. Horse let out a shrill whinnying, half rearing. Ellie sprang to her feet, probably a little too quickly judging from the alarmed expressions of both withers, and began walking towards the house. She swivelled as she walked, facing the two of them for a few steps. ‘Don’t believe everything you hear.’ She said, ducking into the abandoned house before either of them could protest.

She found Lambert breathing heavily, his sword drawn and an impressive piled of kindling, which she assumed used to be furniture, at his feet. Trails of sweat ran down his face and he looked over at her with intensely wild amber eyes as she entered. 

‘Lambert?’ She said, raising her hands and walking slowly towards him as if he were an agitated beast. His dark eyebrows knotted together as he watched her approach, then he turned back to his impromptu home renovations.

‘Get out Blue eyes. I’m not done here.’ She could hear the barely contained anger in his voice. 

‘Is this really helping?’ She asked, taking another careful step towards him. 

‘Yes.’ He spat, swinging his sword deftly over his head, bringing it down on a piece of timber. It splintered with a loud crack, sending bits of wood flying everywhere. Ellie held up an arm to keep the worst of it off her face. 

‘Are you sure? You look worse than when you came in here.’ She was now only a few feet from him. He lowered his sword and turned to her with a livid expression on his face.

His mouth was pulled into a pained grimace as he spoke through gritted teeth. ‘I don’t want to hurt you so I suggest you back off demon.’

‘Don’t take this out on me. _He_ attacked first.’ Lambert took a menacing step towards her, his gloved hand flexing around the hilt of his sword. 

‘If you’re trying to piss me off, you’re doing a fantastic job so far. I know he attacked you, but shocking him with that lightning trick of yours was the stupidest idea ever. Now he’s not only fucked off that we stopped him fulfilling his contract, but he’s aware that you’re a damn sight more powerful than you look and the bounty is likely to triple. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about with you, now I’ll have every witch hunter, mercenary and witcher with an empty coffer after us.’ Ellie tried to step away as he advanced on her, but something about his stare rooted her in place. He was scared…for her. 

Ellie’s throat constricted and she found her eyes locking onto the wolf’s head medallion hanging around his neck. ‘You called him a cat?’

‘What?’ Lambert’s anger was stopped in its tracks by her unexpected question. She raised a finger and pointed at his medallion.

‘And he called you a wolf. Are there different types of witcher?’ He looked down at where she was pointing, his brow furrowing. 

‘There are different schools. Me and the guys out there, we come from the School of the Wolf. The dick weed that attacked you, he was from the School of the Cat.’ There was a simmering rage underneath his words but some of the fire had died in his eyes. She should have probably stopped there but her curiosity pushed her on. 

‘Is there much difference? You look the same.’ Lambert stared at her for a long time; so long that she was certain he would answer her. Then with a small sigh he sheathed his sword and folded his arms. 

‘The way they teach us is different. Put it this way, I’ve only met one cat I like, and he’s a very rare specimen.’ The change in his tone made her scrutinise his face. The last vestiges of his temper dissolved from his expression. There was something unsaid in his words. A guardedness to his expression that told Ellie this was a subject best not pursued right now. Her interest was stirred however. 

‘Maybe you’ll tell me about him sometime.’ She said, her voice quiet. Lambert looked at her and she felt the air catch in her throat at the intensity in those eyes. For the second time since meeting him, an unspoken understanding passed between them and Ellie found the air suddenly very hard to breathe. 

‘Maybe I will.’ He said, his voice equally quiet. 

‘Alright you two.’ Eskel’s voice broke the odd spell, and Lambert cleared his throat awkwardly, looking away from her embarrassed. ‘You’ve had enough private time. We need to have a little talk.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, hope you're all doing okay in these difficult times. Hopefully my bit of fun is a momentary distraction from all the real world chaos. Our band of witcher boys are back together and long may it continue. Hope to see you all next week, thanks to all those who have reviewed so far. As always I'll leave you to read, review and enjoy! :)


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Three witchers and a demon sat around a small fire, all cross-legged and silent like they were conducting a séance. Ellie and Lambert had just finished recounting their tale of leshens, water hags and mercenaries to the other two; Lambert’s contributions containing a high percentage of swearing but Ellie was used to that now. As the silence stretched on Geralt and Eskel shared one of their infamous looks, the white-haired witcher raising an eyebrow at his friend.

Eskel let out a long, low whistle, breaking the uncomfortable quiet. ‘That’s quite an adventure Lambert. You, of all people, would be the last one I’d bet on to get tangled up in a mess like this.’ 

As they had sat talking Ellie had noticed that the term ‘brother’ wasn’t just a way of referring to fellow witchers, it was very true in the case of the three men sat with her. Eskel and Geralt were like the older brothers to Lambert’s slightly distanced little brother vibe. Whenever he talked the other two would share looks and smirk, provoking the younger witcher to get aggravated. However, for all their teasing and cajoling of Lambert there was a bond, a friendly banter that made his usually sharp retorts a lot less barbed when talking to his friends. 

He gave Eskel a narrow-eyed stare now, his full mouth pulled into a disdainful line. ‘When you’re quite done laughing at me, might I remind you of the seriousness of my situation. Who knows how long it’ll be before Gaetan’s back to claim her, and our names will certainly be on his shit list now.’ 

Geralt gave a small shrug. ‘He doesn’t know who we are or what she is. Besides, he’s just one witcher and there are three of us.’ 

‘It won’t take him long to figure out who we are, not with your fucking bard friend singing about your blowhard exploits from here to Skellige.’ Lambert cast a sour look into the fire. ‘Besides, I don’t really want to start killing other witchers if we don’t have to. There are too few of us as it is.’ 

A sombre mood fell over the group and Ellie watched the men curiously. The more she learnt about this world, the monsters and men that inhabited it, the more she wanted to know. The similarities between her world and this one were more numerous than she had previously thought, and maybe if she looked hard enough it might hold the key to why she had been brought here. 

‘You think taking her to Kaer Morhen is the best idea?’ Eskel asked. ‘Vesemir might not like it.’ 

‘Fuck that old coot.’ Lambert said abruptly, and both his friends sat a little straighter, their expressions disapproving. ‘She won’t hurt anyone and if she does…well, like Geralt just said, there are three of us.’ He gave Ellie a sideways look, the firelight dancing in his eyes and a slow, ominous shiver ran up her spine. It was in that moment, sat in a dark clearing with three pairs of cat eyes on her that she really felt the threat if being in the presence of professional monster hunters.

‘We take the demon to Kaer Morhen then.’ Geralt said, his look a little more intense than the other two. Ellie raised a finger, her throat drier than she would have liked.

‘ _Half_ demon.’ She replied tentatively.

‘The equation doesn’t matter.’ Geralt said, his stony expression never shifting.

‘Yes, it does.’ Lambert said curtly, surprising them both. He gave his brother a long, hard stare. ‘It matters.’ Ellie gave him a confused, but grateful look. He returned it with an enigmatic glance, too brief for her to see what he was thinking.

‘We’ll travel with you. We were headed that way anyway.’ Eskel said, breaking the weird tension that had sprung up between them. He gave Ellie an apologetic smile and she decided he was definitely her favourite. 

‘Fine, if it’ll stop your nagging. Now, if you ladies don’t mind, I’m going to get some rest before we set off.’ Lambert rose and headed over to his bed roll, laid out away from the fire. Eskel rubbed his neck, rolling his shoulders as he did. 

‘Me too I think. You got first watch Geralt?’ The white-haired witcher nodded solemnly and repositioned himself so he was kneeling. As she watched, he unsheathed his swords and laid them on the ground in front of him. Then, with one last suspicious look at her he bowed his head and let his eyes close, his hands resting lightly on his thighs. Eskel waited for him to finish before glancing at Ellie. ‘It’s okay. He can sense anything approaching us like that. You can get some shut eye too before we leave.’ 

‘Don’t bother. She doesn’t sleep.’ The snarky comment came from the turned back of an apparently sleeping Lambert. Now it was Ellie’s turn to give an apologetic smile to Eskel.

‘He’s right, I don’t sleep. But thank you for your concern.’ Sleeping Lambert gave a loud sarcastic snort and Eskel grinned, flashing a wink at her. Ellie stifled a chuckle. 

‘We won’t be out long. Want to get on the road as soon as possible. Keep her company Geralt.’ He said amiably, patting his friend on the shoulder. 

Geralt let out a low, ‘Hmmm.’ Not even bothering to open his eyes and Eskel went to his own bed roll. Ellie waited until the two men were emitting sporadic snores and breathing the deep breaths of sleep. She examined her silent camp fire partner curiously. He looked like he was meditating. The position too uncomfortable for him to be asleep too. Plus, there was an awareness about him, similar to a spider seemingly oblivious to the fly hovering around its web until it was too late…for the fly.

Figuring she wasn’t going to get any riveting conversation out of her new companion, she gave a quiet sigh. Readjusting her own position, Ellie rested her hands on her crossed knees, the palms facing up. Then closing her eyes, she sank into her own state of unconsciousness. 

* * *

_‘If you keep getting distracted you’ll never do it kid.’_

_Opening her eyes slightly Ellie looked up at Solomon, his wrinkle lined face fixed in an expression of disapproval. She leant her head back, letting out a groan._

_‘But I’ve been trying forever and I can’t even get a hinge to appear.’ He gave her a reproachful look, his hands resting on his hips as he stared down at her. She was sat cross-legged on the floor, her hands resting palms up on her knees._

_‘Summoning a door from nothing takes, skill, patience and, most importantly…practice.’ As he spoke Ellie mouthed along in perfect synchronisation to his words. She’d heard it enough times. Solomon gave her a sharp slap to the back of her head, causing her teeth to rattle inside her mouth. ‘I see you sassing me again and I’ll give you more than a slap.’ His voice was layered with warning and Ellie sobered quickly as she rubbed the back of her head, her eyes landing on one of his deadly six shooters holstered beneath his coat._

_‘Now…close your eyes again and try to clear your mind of everything but the door.’ She obeyed her mentor, although the stinging pain now radiating from her head wasn’t doing her any favours. She let out a long breath and focused on nothing in particular. The hard-stone floor beneath her faded into nothing, along with the distant sounds of the other Gatekeepers training somewhere in the complex. Solomon’s imposing Shedu presence dissolved into the shadows too until it was just her, floating in space. Finally, she began to separate her mind from her body. Allowing her senses to zero in on the thin veil between worlds, pinpointing its weakness. Without using her physical hands, Ellie felt along the veil for that tell-tale snag that indicated where there was a door; a gateway between the worlds._

_Don’t force it, don’t force it. She repeated, letting her senses brush against the silky-smooth texture of the veil. There…an imperfection, a snag. Ellie latched onto it, grasping it with her mind. Slowly, and carefully she began to pull on it. Her actual hands rising from her knees, her thumb and forefinger pinched together as if holding something. Gradually she lifted them higher, pulling the invisible something as if out of a bag._

_Gently, gently. The snag grew, becoming wider. The door began to take shape in her mind. It was an old fashioned, panel fronted door. Similar in design to ones she had seen in old stately homes when she was a child. Memories of her parents dragging her through the historic buildings, looking at wax dummies set up to look like the past occupants. The furniture smelling strongly of must and disinfectant. She had never liked those dummies, they had stared at her with vacant eyes. Lifeless beings without a soul. Ironic really. In an instant the door slipped from her grasp. One minute it was there, a ghostly apparition hovering before her. The next it vanished._

_‘You were closer that time.’ Solomon’s voice broke her out of her trance. Frowning, she stared down at her empty hands, the spot in front of her where the door had been similarly vacant. ‘You let your memories muddy the waters again, didn’t you?’_

_Ellie looked up at him, her eyes narrowed. ‘It’s not something I can control. I see the door and it reminds me of things.’_

_Solomon shook his horned head, she could see his tail flicking in frustration from beneath his long coat. ‘You’re trying to force the gateway kid. At this stage just getting a door is enough, don’t worry about the location.’_

_Ellie gave him a confused look, the difference in heights hurting her neck. ‘But what’s the point in making a door if I don’t know where it’s going.’_

_Her mentor laid a fatherly hand on her head, ruffling her hair. ‘Most of the time we don’t know where it’s going, we’ve just gotta’ trust it’ll take us to where we need to be.’_

* * *

She was sat cross-legged, her eyes closed. A perfect parody of Geralt who was meditating opposite her. Her hands were placed upwards on her knees, the thumb and forefinger of each pinched together as if she were grasping something. The strange, branded glyph on her wrist was glowing ever so slightly. A faint blue hue that crackled with an unseen energy. Lambert’s medallion shivered in response to it. 

Cautiously he stuck out a foot and prodded her knee. ‘Hey Blue eyes, wake up.’ 

Without opening her eyes, she murmured at him from the corner of her mouth. ‘I’m not sleeping.’ 

‘Then open your fucking eyes and get up. We’re moving out.’ He retorted, turning to his brother. ‘You too white wolf. Up and at ‘em.’ 

He heard Geralt let out a low sigh from where he knelt on the ground, but he was already walking away to deal with Whoreson. He hadn’t slept for long, and what little he had got had been plagued by some very disturbing dreams. He had been running through a dark wood, not from something but towards it. His legs tired and slow to move, his lungs burning but the thought of stopping had sent the icy hand of fear curling around his heart. In the distance he could hear shouting and someone screaming, and although he had never heard her make the sound in real life, he knew it was Blue eyes. With his sword in hand, he had sprinted in her direction, but no matter fast or long he ran, he never got to her. He had woken just after dawn, his ears still ringing with the sound of her screams.

His already surly mood souring by the second he checked his mount’s saddle and tried not to look at the girl getting ready behind him. He could feel Eskel occasionally glance at him but he ignored his friend’s obvious concern, he didn’t want to tell anyone about his subconscious fears. Strapping his bed roll to the back of his horse, he swung himself into the saddle, surveying the progress of the rest of his party.

Geralt was also mounting Roach, the bay mare shaking her head lazily. Eskel was putting out the fire and giving their camp one last sweep, whilst shoving the last of his meagre breakfast into his mouth. Lambert suddenly felt his heart drop as one of their group appeared to be absent. His eyes flashed around the clearing and he twisted in the saddle searching behind him. He found her stood in the shadow of the abandoned farm house, her hands clasped in front of her, an awkward look on her face. Nudging his heels into Whoreson’s sides he moved over to her, his temper fraying from his sudden scare.

‘What you doing hiding over here? We need to go before half of Novigrad is after us.’ She looked up at him with those infuriatingly blue eyes, that little crease appearing between her eyebrows. 

‘I was thinking. Maybe I should try going back to my world again. All I seem to do is bring danger and trouble down on you, I don’t want to be a problem anymore.’ Lambert pulled on his reins, stilling his mount’s dancing hooves. Frowning down at the girl he felt that tugging in his gut once more.

‘You do. But what if you can’t get back and then Gaetan comes to find you, or someone else. You really want to be stuck here for eternity, just to keep me from a bit of trouble? I’m a witcher Blue eyes, trouble will find me with or without you.’ He held out a hand to her. She looked at it and for one horrible moment he thought she was going to take off into the woods instead. The echoes of her screams from his nightmare bubbled up to the surface. Then with a deep breath, she said something so low he had to strain to hear it. It sounded like, ‘It’ll take us where we need to be,’ but he couldn’t make sense of it before she had placed her hand in his and he was pulling her up into the saddle with him.

This time they were prepared for the uncomfortable sensation that came with being so close. Even so, with the sharp eyes of Geralt and Eskel now with them Lambert was very aware of how his heart rate picked up the moment her back pressed against him. His palms becoming clammy as the intense smell of her hair hit his nose and the exposed skin of her legs flushing as his arms encircled her to grab his reins. 

‘Ready?’ He asked hoarsely. Geralt’s eyes snapped to him. Blue eyes shifted a tiny bit, attempting to give him more room but only serving to rub her rear against his groin in the process. He cleared his throat as he felt his stomach constrict, and she responded with a high pitched, ‘Sure.’

It was hard to tell from the direction he was facing but he was certain he saw Eskel sniggering next to a very interested Geralt. Clenching his jaw, he kicked Whoreson to a steady trot and led the group away from the farm house and back to the main road. If he stayed out in front he would hopefully be able to hide the effects the girl had on him. Gods, this was so fucking stupid. If this were any _normal_ circumstance, and she were any _normal_ girl, he would have taken her to bed already and got this out of his system. But this wasn’t any _normal_ circumstance, and she most definitely was _not_ a normal girl. He had seen her fight a water hag off with her bare hands, seen her tame a griffin with nothing but a kind word and some cloth, and now he had seen her send a witcher flying by shocking him with some unknown lightning power.

As they arrived back at the town, Lambert gratefully turned his horse away from Novigrad and the fishing settlement on the Pontar. Taking off into the wilderness with his brothers in tow. A few of the locals cast glances at the procession of witchers travelling by, with a young, scantily dressed girl sat astride one of their horses. No doubt tongues would wag, and rumours would circulate but he intended to be far away by the time they reached the ears of Gaetan or any other curious parties. 

Once clear of the town Lambert spurred his horse into a canter, tightening his hold on Blue eyes as he did, so she didn’t slip from the unexpected motion. In a moment of weakness, with the sun on his back and his brothers behind him, he used the change in pace to lean forward. His chin brushing against the side of the girl’s face, her smell increasing as his nose skimmed her ear. He fully expected her to flinch away from the contact, but for a brief moment she leant into him, her cheek pressing firmly against his chin. She took in her own deep breath, smelling him like he had her, then before he could process what was happening or how fast his heart was currently beating she pulled away. It wasn’t a harsh movement, as if she were repulsed by him, it was slower, more decisive. He was just wishing she would come back, the place where their skin had touched tingling, when the sound of approaching hoofbeats made him straighten up resuming his proper riding position.

‘Oi, where’s the fire Lambert? You’re not planning on galloping the whole way are you?’ Eskel appeared at his side, his scarred mouth pulled up into a grin. Lambert shot him a dirty look, his interruption not appreciated. 

_But where would it have led to, idiot? Best to ignore the attraction, not feed it._

‘No, I just want to get some distance between us and that shitty town.’ He answered finally, although he did slow Whoreson back to a brisk trot. Eskel did the same to Scorpion, and after a beat Roach came barrelling up on Lambert’s other side, an ever stoic Geralt regarding them both. 

‘Race over now, is it?’ He said, his tone unusually sarcastic. Lambert muttered under his breath, keeping his eyes on the road and not on his irritating brothers. He was grateful for their help in escorting his troublesome passenger, but he’d rather they were not so observant. 

‘So, what’s your name? I’m guessing it’s not ‘Blue eyes’.’ The girl turned her head to look at Eskel, causing her hair to tickle his chin. 

‘No, my name’s Eleanor, but you can call me Ellie.’ He saw Eskel tilt his head in his peripheral vision.

‘Odd name for a demon-sorry, _half_ demon. Seems a bit…ordinary.’ Blue eyes let out a light laugh, the sound jarring to Lambert. He had heard her chuckle a few times but this was different. It was carefree and joyous, the sound automatically making him feel happier inside. He felt his jaw tense. Why of all people had it been Eskel to make her laugh like that?

_Because you’re a bitter, rude asshole, that’s why._ He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and tried to keep his temper over their innocent exchange. 

‘That’s because my human parents named me. If I was born a demon I’d have had another name, something more biblical maybe. All the demons I know are called things like, Enoch and Callous and…Solomon.’ As she spoke her usual gibberish there was a slight pause before she said the last name that roused Lambert’s attention. A note of pain in her voice, like it hurt her to even speak it.

‘You’re very…honest for a demon. I’d have thought you wouldn’t want to share so much with us.’ 

‘Why not? You’re helping me, the least I can do is answer your questions.’ Eskel chuckled in response.

‘That reminds me, I meant to ask, how did you do that lightning thing?’ Lambert sat up a little straighter at this question, and he could see even the normally aloof and cool Geralt lean closer to the conversation taking place. Blue eyes paused for a moment, and he half thought she was about to go back on her promise of answering every question; then she spoke. Her voice a tad more cautious than a second before.

‘I’m half demon, but I’m half Shedu specifically. That’s a type of storm demon. I can control the weather to a certain degree, although I specialise in lightning.’ 

A beat of silence settled on them as all three witchers processed the information. Lambert had never heard of any storm demons that controlled the weather, and he sure as shit had no idea what a _Shedu_ was. But if what she had said was true, there was a whole lot more to the girl sat in front of him that he had previously imagined.

‘Why did you never tell me this?’ He suddenly said, his voice sharp and tinged with jealousy. Lambert was proud and the fact Eskel had weaselled that nugget of intel out of _his_ prisoner had seriously pissed him off. She twisted slightly in the saddle to look up at him, and he tried not to concentrate on what her bare leg brushing against his did to him. 

‘Because _you_ never asked. You know a civil conversation sometimes wouldn’t kill you.’ Now Eskel properly laughed. The sound grinding on Lambert’s nerves like a whetstone on a blade.

‘You’ve got him there. See Lambert, being nice once in a while might be worth your while.’ The glare he threw his brother was enough to wither a leshen, but Eskel only laughed harder. From his other side he heard a quiet, disapproving, ‘Hmmm,’ and it took every ounce of his strength not to blow his top. If that wasn’t enough he could see Blue eyes looking up at him still, a wide grin on her face. Oh, she was enjoying this was she? He’d see how long that lasted when he made her run behind him again. 

Eskel was still going as the road they were on began to weave into a small patch of birch trees. The track narrowed and they were forced to reform in single file. Lambert took point again, but he could hear Eskel chortling behind him.

‘Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up clown. I still get more action than you do in a year.’ 

‘That’s because you pay them jackass.’ Eskel managed to quip back through wheezes. Lambert was just about to launch into an all-out insult war with his friend when he felt a firm hand grip his wrist. 

‘Stop.’ Blue eyes said abruptly. The serious edge to her voice made him immediately pull Whoreson to a halt. Eskel’s laughing cut off suddenly as he saw Lambert come to a dead stop in the middle of the road.

‘What’s up?’ He asked, but Lambert was focused on the girl sat in front of him. She was staring intently into the trees, her blue eyes wide and alert. Instantly he looked in the same direction, scanning the woodland for any sign of danger. He couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary, only birdsong and the breeze through the leaves. Something had spooked her however, as she began to try and disentangle herself from his arms so she could dismount. 

‘What do you see Blue eyes?’ He asked, locking his arms so she couldn’t bend them and escape. Instead of answering him her attempts became more frantic, until with a hefty shove she manged to lift his arms high enough to slide out from underneath. 

‘Hey! Don’t, it could be dangerous!’ He yelled, already dismounting Whoreson to follow her. He watched with a slight twinge of panic as she ran off into the trees. This was his nightmare coming true. He checked his swords were in place on his back and was about to sprint off after her when a hand landed on his shoulder. Looking at its owner with a fierce glare, he was met with the stony face of the white wolf of fucking Rivia. 

‘Steady Lambert. We don’t know what’s out there.’ 

‘Exactly,’ he said, shrugging out of Geralt’s hold. ‘And that’s why I need to go because, in case you hadn’t noticed, my passenger just booked it into those trees.’ 

‘Did you see what made her do it?’ Eskel asked, coming up beside them, his sword already drawn. 

‘Funnily enough I was too busy trying to stop her getting away.’ He replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

‘Enough.’ Geralt said as he started to walk slowly in the direction the demon girl had gone. ‘We’ll get her back.’ 

‘Oooo, you’re such a badass. I bet the ladies swoon for it.’ Lambert said as he unwillingly followed his brother. The three witchers walked cautiously though the spaced-out birches. All of them looking for signs of what might have provoked their demon charge to run without stopping to explain. Lambert found the pace Geralt set excruciating. He was waiting for the sound of screaming to start, to really complete the nightmare. After what felt like an age to him, but in reality was around five minutes, he caught a whiff of a very familiar scent on the breeze. His brothers caught the same scent at exactly the same time, all three stopping in their tracks and glancing to one another.

‘Griffin.’ Eskel said in a low voice. 

‘Smells like it.’ Lambert stated. He wouldn’t admit it to them, but his heart was beating faster than its usually languid pace. 

‘It’s too quiet.’ Geralt added, pulling at his beard. As much as Lambert loved to disagree with the older witcher he had a point. Even a nesting griffin would be marking its territory by calling, but there was nothing. Only the birdsong and the damn breeze. 

‘Fuck this, I’m going.’ He said, his patience finally wearing thin. He heard Geralt’s low curse and Eskel’s sigh but he no longer cared. Keeping his footsteps light he moved quickly through the trees until the stench of griffin was at its most intense. It was then that he smelt the blood. Hot and metallic, fresh. For a brief second his heart grew cold, then he saw the body of the beast and the much smaller figure of a girl stood beside it.

The griffin was dead. This much was obvious to him as he walked towards it, mainly due to it not having a head. The cut was clean and precise. Made by an extremely sharp blade, probably made of silver. He could see the corpse had several slash wounds to its chest and flanks, all long, diagonal cuts typical of an exceptionally agile fighter. There were also a few burn marks around the mane, as if someone had shot fire at the beast. It didn’t take him long in his assessment to summarise this was the work of a witcher. 

Blue eyes was stood near the rear of the monster, her head bowed as if in prayer. He marched over to her, his relief morphing seamlessly into anger. ‘What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing? You can’t just run off on your own, not with a contract out on your head and witchers in the area.’ 

She didn’t look up at his tirade. Her cheeks glistened with something wet, as if she had been crying and suddenly Lambert wasn’t sure how to react. Why was she stood in the middle of a wood crying next to a griffin corpse? Girl didn’t make sense. 

‘Is that who killed her?’ She asked, her voice thick with tears. He blinked at her, taken aback by this sudden out pouring of emotion. 

‘Killed her?’

‘A witcher. Is that who killed the griffin?’ She asked, anger seeping in amongst the tears now. 

‘Well, yeah. It looks that way.’ He rubbed a hand over his beard as he tried to figure out what was going on. 

‘And that’s why…’. She swallowed, her words struggling to get out. ‘That’s why the head’s missing?’ 

‘He would have taken it as proof that he killed the monster.’ As he was trying to fathom what was happening, he heard Geralt and Eskel reach them. They thankfully stayed a respectful distance from them, the last thing he needed was those two muddying the waters further in this bizarre situation. 

‘She was only defending her eggs.’ Blue eyes said finally looking up at him. Her eyes were rimmed with red but the blue of her irises was a deep, shimmering sapphire. Caught somewhere between the navy of anger and the sky blue of joy that he had come to recognise. ‘She didn’t deserve to die.’ The words caught in her throat and with an angry motion she wiped the back of her hand over her eyes. She glared up at him for a moment longer before walking towards the headless end of the corpse. As she moved, a flash of white caught Lambert’s eye and his attention was drawn to the beast. Wrapped around one of its rear, cat like legs was a tattered, bloodstained piece of cloth. He turned to watch her walk to where the bloody stump of its neck lay in the dirt. A dark pool beginning to stain the ground. She knelt down and laid a hand on the matted, partly singed mane of the griffin. 

‘Fly high my friend. May your soul sail safely to Purgatory.’ She said before straightening, her expression unreadable as she stared down at the slaughtered monster. A strange quiet settled over the woods, the breeze seeming to die down, the birds pausing in their song. A shiver ran up Lambert’s spine and he glanced at his brothers to see that they were similarly affected. Their eyes alert as they looked at the demon girl mourning the dead griffin. 

In that moment Lambert knew what she was thinking as she looked down at the corpse with a mixture of sadness and anger. There was a high chance that Gaetan had been the one to end the griffin’s life, and in a different set of circumstances, in a different timeline, she would have been the one lying headless in the dirt. In her eyes the griffin and her were one in the same, kindred souls fighting to survive in a world that didn’t understand them. If only she knew how similar the fates of those that killed these beasts was to theirs, maybe she would look at him and his brothers in a different light.

‘Blue eyes.’ He said, his voice quiet and as gentle as he could make it. She looked up at him, her eyes darker now. The righteous anger burning in them, a cold fire. ‘We need to go…I’m sorry.’ 

His apology seemed to break the spell. The sound rushing back to the woods like a dam being lifted. She blinked, a few stray tears escaping down her cheeks as she did. Wiping them away she nodded and began walking towards him in a daze. He placed a hand on the small of her back as she reached him and gently steered her towards the other two, watching them curiously. She looked back only once at the monster she had saved and then prayed for, before they returned to their horses and continued their journey to the keep of Kaer Morhen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, I really do love to see all your thoughts and opinions on this crazy journey that is writing. Thank you for following along on it and I hope you are all enjoying. With this chapter we finally reach the end of part one, what will the next part of our story bring to our couple? We shall see. As always, please read, review and enjoy! :)


	13. Chapter 13

Part Two – Kaer Morhen

_‘In every century, in every country, they'll call us something different. They'll say we're ghosts, angels, demons, elemental spirits, and giving us a name doesn't help anybody. When did a name change what someone is?’_

_\- Brenna Yovanoff,_ [ _The Replacement_ ](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/6911742)

Chapter 13

Ellie wasn’t sure how long they had been on the road, but it felt like over a week. Her days had shifted into a well-oiled routine of sorts. In the mornings they rose early, just after dawn, and set out on horseback always heading north. The small villages and homesteads they passed were spaced out, separated at first by undulating fields of grass and hardy shrubs, which gradually morphed into rocky valleys and vast forests of pine and other coniferous trees. 

They kept to the roads but avoided any settlements as best they could, choosing instead to camp nearby and send one of the three witchers into collect supplies and ask the locals about any contracts or rumours concerning monsters. This was partly down to funds, but also to find out if talk of a demon girl who had been causing trouble near Novigrad had reached the far-flung parts of the Northern Kingdoms.

The names of the towns and regions meant little to her, although she took them in as they passed. Alness, Winespring Grange, Bowden. As the fields gave way to forests the witchers commented that they had passed into the region of Kaedwen. Ellie never sort to pry, but she had picked up from their scattered conversations about it that they were headed for a pass that would close up once the winter snow arrived. 

They would spend most of their days travelling, unless they were stopping for supplies or for one of the witchers to deal with any stray monsters or vermin for a few coin. Then once the sun began to touch the horizon they would make camp, off the road and hidden from other travellers. The witchers all seemed practiced in living outdoors and once while Ellie was watching with fascinated interest as Eskel gutted and prepared a fish he had caught, he had told her how finding an inn that would house them was a rare occurrence. She had felt a swell of sadness at this. The men fulfilled a purpose in the community, as much as she might disagree with the outcome, for that same community to shun them seemed…cruel. 

In the evenings, as one of the witchers set up camp, the others would practice their swordsmanship. Clearly taking advantage of the company to do so. This was Ellie’s favourite time of day. She would often find a quiet spot to observe the men training, her chin resting on her knees as she followed their graceful, sinuous movements. The sword an extension of themselves. The more she watched, the more she was able to tell their different techniques apart. 

Eskel favoured a dancer’s approach, his footwork intricate and fluid. She found she was reminded of a time when her parents had taken her and her brother to see a production of Swan Lake, although she would never say that to the witcher’s face.

Geralt was wilder, less beautiful to watch but unapparelled when it came to brute force and raw ferocity. Often times, whomever he was sparring would give up long before he did, holding up their hands or in the case of Lambert swearing for him to cut it out. An uneasy trust between her and the ‘white wolf’ had been established, although his eyes would always find her when she was sat watching him train and an ominous shiver would pass down her spine. 

Out of all of them however, it was Lambert she enjoyed watching the most. His style was quick and agile, like a panther. He would stay low to the ground and was very inventive when it came to throwing his partner’s balance off. He would regularly somersault and roll to flank them, then use elegant down ward attacks with his sword to catch them off guard. It was the style that was closest to the way she fought, and Ellie often found herself grinning with excitement as he dodged and harried his fellow witchers.

Once evening practice had drawn to a close, the witchers would eat. Swapping stories of monster hunting and conquests with each other. Ellie had begun by sitting on the outskirts of the group, unsure whether she was welcome in this small brotherly circle. Especially due to her not sharing their food. However, about four days into their journey Eskel had made a space next to him, and as she moved to go to her usual spot on the edge of the firelight, he had smiled and patted the bed roll invitingly. 

‘Come have a seat Ellie. We don’t bite, promise.’ 

She had paused, her eyes flicking between the three men now watching her. Eskel’s warm and inviting, Geralt’s hard and unwelcoming, and Lambert’s cool and indifferent. Unable to refuse him without seeming rude, she had nodded and cautiously sat down, her movements slow and deliberate. As if she were entering a den of rabid wolves. There had been an awkward beat of silence before Eskel, ever the diplomat, had stuck up conversation with Geralt about the advantages of using Golden Oriole when fighting kikimores. At points in the night’s discussion Eskel had tried to include Ellie, but after a few failed attempts he let her sit quietly, listening to their strange, foreign words. She liked it that way, and she never sat away from them after that. 

The talk of monsters was one thing, but when conversations turned to women Ellie felt extremely out of place. Demons weren’t ones to discuss anything personal with strangers or friends, let alone sexual partners, but the witchers seemed just as animated about the subject as they were about their profession. It wasn’t the lude comments that disturbed Ellie, to the contrary once the men had decided she didn’t care they had dropped all pretence and acted like she wasn’t even present. It was the way they referred to the women or otherwise, as if they were barely people. At first, she had taken offence to it, then gradually she had realised that like Eskel’s comment about the inns, it eluded to the way witchers were viewed by the people in this world. 

It seemed only Geralt managed to have any kind of meaningful relationship with any of his bed mates. A fact that Lambert and Eskel teased him for relentlessly. Whenever it was Lambert’s turn to relay his exploits in the bedroom department, Ellie found herself the least comfortable. With the other two she could listen, half-heartedly to the tale of how they had jumped out of that window or got involved with that daughter of a Duke, but with Lambert she found her stomach twisting and her mood dropping rapidly. After a while she had learnt to excuse herself once the monster stories came to an end and drift off to the outskirts of the camp once more.

She wasn’t sure where this aversion to the gory details of Lambert’s sex life had come from, but she imagined it wasn’t helped by their daily rides. She would have liked to say that over time riding with him had gotten easier, however, it seemed the opposite was true. The longer they spent together in the saddle the more unbearable it became. The way his arms brushed against hers as he caged her in. His thighs pressing against the backs of her bare legs as he rode, his chest a constant wall by which she had to support herself. And his smell, his smell was everywhere. The heady scent of spice haunted her every moment of the day, even when she had dismounted and the witchers had gone to rest for the night, she still found the smell lingered on her clothes and in her nose. 

Their relationship since the day of the dead griffin had become this untested mine field of animal attraction and bitter indifference. With the other two witchers Lambert had found a buffer so he didn’t have to interact with her at all in the evenings, but he still insisted on making her ride with him, and always found a way to lean in and smell her hair or brush his hands just so over her knee. It was infuriating…and confusing. 

Part of their routine was to dismount after a long day of riding, both staring at each other uneasily. Their eyes both bright with excitement, their bodies tense with pent up energy. Lambert would give her a deliberate look up and down then mumble his excuse, storming off to complete any task that took him as far away from her as possible for the rest of the night. Ellie half wondered, what would happen if it had just been the two of them still. But it wasn’t, and entertaining those ideas was a dangerous and slippery road to go down.

With all the weird tension with Lambert, and Geralt’s less than welcoming mood towards her, it was Eskel - the warmest and most excepting of the witcher trio - she found herself gravitating towards. He would allow her to sit next to him at the fire while they talked and ate, and if he was doing something for the camp he didn’t seem to mind her tagging along. She would ask him questions, enjoying the gentle sound of his voice as he patiently explained what he was doing or things about their world. Occasionally he would return the favour and question her, but she noticed how he would watch her in those instances. His amber eyes losing some of their friendliness, a cold, analytical quality coming over them, as if he were studying her. Not wanting to lose her one source of enjoyable company, she increased her questioning and dodged around his own when the time came.

Today they were traveling through a valley of high rocky cliffs, the pine forests dense on the slops either side. The last settlement they had passed had been a good two days ago, and it had looked more like a hunter’s camp than a town of any kind. Ellie had the feeling that they were reaching the fabled pass she had heard so much about. A pack of wolves howled in the distance, but the witchers weren’t alarmed by them. The beasts around here evidently knew not to attack the humans carrying two swords. 

The air had a definite chill to it. The further north they had come the colder it had gotten, until they were frequently seeing their breath clouding in the morning. There had been no frost, or snowfall yet, but the air had a bite to it today which made even Ellie shiver. 

As they continued down the road, Lambert noticed her trembling against him and shifted himself. Not away like she had been expecting, but a lot closer. His arms encasing her so she was surrounded by his body warmth. Ellie’s breath hitched as she felt his chin brushing against her hair, the now very familiar scent of cinnamon overwhelming her. 

‘Pretty fucking impractical clothing if you ask me.’ Lambert said in a low voice as she felt him reach behind for something. Seconds later he tossed his sleeping blanket over her legs. Tucking it around his own thighs so it bound them close together, he returned his mouth to her ear. 

‘Lean back Blue eyes, I’ll keep you warm.’ There was a heavy note of suggestion in his words, and she swore she felt him smirk as he said it. She should have been irritated at his childish teasing but this was the first time he had jibed at her in a long while, besides the cocoon of warmth he had created was too nice to ruin with her bad mood. 

Instead she wordlessly obliged. Leaning further back so her head rested against his collar bone, his hands coming together in front of her so he was practically hugging her. From beneath his leather armour she could feel the steady beat of his heart, slower than a normal human’s, and solid…like him. Just as she was growing used to the fluttering sensation in her stomach, the sound of approaching hoofbeats reached them. Seconds later Eskel’s grinning face appeared in her peripheral.

‘Glad to see you two are getting along again. I was being to lose sleep over your little tiff.’ As much as she liked Eskel and his personable manner, his contribution to this already awkward situation was not appreciated…by either party. 

‘Fuck off Eskel.’ Lambert snapped eloquently. She could see his hands tightening on the reins. Eskel gave his trademark chuckle, then shot a saucy wink at Ellie.

‘Ever the charmer, eh El?’ The audible sound of Lambert grinding his teeth came from above her. She was fond of the nickname Eskel had bestowed on her half way through their journey, but right now she really wished he would stop antagonising her driver. 

‘When this is all over _brother,_ I’ll get you back for every comment and fucking wink you’ve thrown my way for the past week.’ The threat was evident in Lambert’s voice and Eskel held up his hands, his deformed face splitting into a grin.

‘Whoa, truce. Far be from me to step on your turf Lambert, but the sooner you do something about _this_ , the better. The tension is driving me nuts.’ 

Ellie was sure they could have lit their way with how bright her face grew. The heat was a jarring juxta position to the bitter cold, and she did her best to avoid Eskel’s pin sharp gaze. Dipping her head. Lambert’s heart beat took a drastic spike in the speed department, then she heard his angry growl vibrating through his chest.

‘I’m gonna’ throw a bomb right in your face if you don’t piss off and leave me alone.’ 

Eskel let out a deep, booming laugh before reining Scorpion, his black stallion, in so he fell behind Lambert again. They continued on, Ellie watching the steep, grey cliffs of jagged rock, crowned with dark pines drift by. The cry of a bird of prey met them on the wind, and Ellie found herself sifting past the all-encompassing smell of Lambert to breathe in the clean mountain atmosphere. She got a whiff of everything she expected at first; crystalline cold air tinged with pine and spruce. The musky smell of wolf and bear, deer roamed these unforgiving wilds as well, but in amongst the familiar there was also the unknown. She wondered idlily what monsters lurked in these parts. Nothing good probably.

‘You know, we really ought to get you better clothes. Winter in the keep is as cold as a frost giant’s navel.’ Lambert’s voice snapped her out of her investigation. She blinked a few times, uncertain whether she had imagined him talking in such a relaxed manner to her, then he spoke again. ‘Eskel has always liked fucking with me. Don’t pay any mind to his shit.’

Ellie frowned, a delayed anger trickling through her like poison. ‘Actually, I quite like Eskel. At least he doesn’t _ignore me_ for over a week, then strike up a conversation like nothing has happened.’ 

She felt him tense against her. Glaring out at nothing in particular, as she was not able to glare up at him without twisting awkwardly, Ellie waited for his impending explosion. She had learnt very quickly that much like his beloved bombs, Lambert had an extremely short fuse. To her surprise, she felt the witcher take in a deep breath, his chest expanding against her back, letting it out slowly. 

‘I suppose I deserved that.’ He muttered. Now Ellie _really_ wanted to see his face. He fell silent, the sound of the horses’ hooves reverberating off the steep cliffs. The atmosphere shifted and suddenly she was too hot wrapped up in his blanket, his agitated body rocking against her back. She wriggled trying to get some breathing room but this only served to tangle the blanket tighter around their legs. Something akin to panic set in; not because of any danger but because she needed some space from the man behind her.

‘Will you cut it out. You’re going to throw us off.’ He said, irritated but under his breath. ‘Here.’ With two deft movements he loosened the blanket, allowing Ellie to sit forward slightly.

The cold rushed in against her back, but she was able to think clearly again without his heat and stupid heartbeat muddling her thoughts. The road ahead was starting to incline; gradually at first, but then with an abruptness that surprised Ellie. The cliffs had opened out now to expose a winding mountain pass. Towering, snow-capped mountains loomed ahead of them, the swaying pine forests like a dark sea lapping at their feet. The road they were on climbed then disappeared in the junction of two of the mountains. She assumed this was the fabled pass that the witchers kept speaking about. 

Her breath hitched at the intimidating sight. Then Horse came to a stop and Lambert nudged her, gently, with his elbow. ‘Down you get.’ He said.

Twisting round she gave him an incredulous look. ‘We’re camping? Now? But it’s still daylight.’ 

His mouth pulled into a wry smile, his eyes glinting dangerously. ‘We’re not camping Blue eyes.’

‘We’re walking.’ Eskel finished, appearing once more by their side except this time he was leading Scorpion by his reins. 

Ellie looked from Eskel to the pass, to Lambert then back to the pass. ‘How far is it?’ She asked, not entirely sure she wanted an answer to that question.

‘About two days. The horses can’t navigate the pass _and_ carry us. So, this is the only way.’ She swore she heard just the faintest hint of glee in Lambert’s voice as he explained. Still angry at his weeks of cold shoulders and lecherous glances Ellie beamed up at him, making him recoil blinking.

‘Good job I got so much practice at the start of our journey then, isn’t it?’ Despite the bitter cold she ripped the blanket from her legs and performed a lightning fast dismount. One second, she was sat in front of the witcher, the next she was stood a few feet in front of Horse, her hands behind her back, rocking on the balls of her feet. It was the fastest she had moved in their presence, but now her strength had all but returned to normal and it was only them, she felt like the stretch might do her good.

All three witchers instinctually went for their weapons, her speed a complete surprise to them. Then one by one they registered what had happened and relaxed. Eskel first, his scarred face splitting into a wide grin, then Lambert, a bewildered look in his eyes even as his eyebrows pulled together in a troubled expression. Geralt was predictably the last to stand down, his stony gaze remaining fixed on her with an untrusting intensity. 

‘Holy shit El. That was _quick._ You’ve been holding back on us.’ Eskel said, walking over to give her an appreciative pat on the shoulder. His large hand dwarfed her thin frame but the force of his friendly slap didn’t move her in the slightest. Ahh, it was good to be whole again. 

She looked at the other two, tilting her head to the side. ‘Are we walking then or not?’ Her voice was honey sweet, but thick with sarcasm. Lambert’s eyebrows lowered even further and he muttered something about ‘crazy ass demons’ as he dismounted. Having readied themselves for the familiar climb to their mountain home, Ellie let the witchers lead. Walking at a leisurely pace behind them. Without Lambert’s warm body and woollen blanket, she could feel the cold nipping at her skin again. She hoped the walk would help that particular problem.

Ellie enjoyed the feeling of freedom. It was a bitter kind of irony that she was now grateful for a chance to walk instead of ride Horse. Two weeks ago, she had been desperate for a break from staggering unceremoniously behind the witcher. Two weeks ago, she had been weak and exhausted, now there was a confidence and a grace to her steps. The road really began to climb up into the mountains. The ground uneven and rough with jagged rocks. The witchers took it slowly, letting their horses pick their way carefully over the treacherous terrain. The higher they went, the steeper and narrower the path became, and the colder the air. 

She could cope with most weather dressed as she was. She liked the freedom shorts and light tops gave her, she was built for agility after all. However, the term cold only half described the climate on the road to the pass. The other words she could’ve used were glacial, frigid, sub-zero, fucking freezing. All fitting but still not quite living up to the bone numbing pain the dropping temperature brought to her. She began to hop from foot to foot, the leather boots Lambert had given her providing some protection from the sharp rocks beneath her, but only just. 

The more she moved, the more she felt the built-up energy inside her starting to brim over. She had barely moved for two weeks, with so many towns and villages on their route she had found no opportunity to test her recovered legs. Now, in the solitude of the mountains and with growing need to get some heat into her she let rip. Pausing for a moment, she crouched down, eyeing the rocky outcrops on either side of them. The witchers were travelling single file in front of her, blocking the path, so she’d bypass them. Spying a good handhold about twenty feet up, she tensed her legs, priming them with all her bottled up energy.

Right before she leapt Lambert froze and turned to look over his shoulder at her. She flashed him a broad grin, and saw his eyes widen briefly in shock, his mouth opening to say something, just as she launched herself up the mountain side.

‘Shit! Blue eyes!’ She heard him yell after her, but she was already bounding from the handhold to the next one. Her feet absorbing the impact, then relaunching her like a coiled spring. She was at least seventy feet above them when she reached a large perch of flat rock, sticking out of the cliff face. Sitting down with a bounce, she peered over her dangling legs to see all three witchers staring up at her open mouthed. Her eyesight was just good enough to see the expressions of horror, surprise and anger on each of their faces. No prizes for guessing which was Lambert’s.

‘Get…the fuck…down!’ She heard him shout.

She waved cheerfully at them. ‘I will do. Just give me a moment. I’ll catch up with you, trust me.’ The wind carried some of her words away but she knew they’d heard them. Witcher hearing, she had observed, was far superior to hers.

‘Not likely demon. We wait for you.’ This was from Geralt. She could see him squinting up at her, his constant aura of mistrust practically pulsating at her. Better to not piss off her guides she thought. Letting out a sigh Ellie took in the view for a second; up here the mountains and forests seemed endless. Far off, back the way they had come she could just make out the flatter country, dotted with deciduous woodland and farms. Ahead of them the mountains created a solid barrier to what lay beyond. These witchers definitely didn’t like company. 

When she had felt like she had pushed her luck far enough, she dropped down the same way she had come, landing gracefully next to the three, disapproving witchers. There was a moment of silence, then Lambert shook his head. 

‘Every time I think you’re somewhat normal, you do something bat shit crazy.’ She narrowed her eyes at him, but the exhilaration of the climb made it hard to get really annoyed at him. 

Geralt shot a sharp look at Lambert. ‘Keep her feet on the ground please.’ Without waiting for a response, he turned and began traversing the narrow path. Eskel gave Ellie a shrug and his small, apologetic smile before following him. Lambert watched his brothers go, she moved to continue walking, not feeling in the mood for a lecture from him but his hand snapped out, grabbing her arm firmly.

‘One piece of advice Blue eyes, don’t do that when we get to the keep. In fact, try and keep your weird demon shit to a minimum for the rest of our time together.’ He gave her a stern look, and she couldn’t help her stomach clenching at his mention of their reason for coming here. He wanted her gone. 

‘I’m not going to hurt you. You know that right?’ She said, her voice betraying her hurt. His brow furrowed, his eyes flicking across her face as he attempted to read her.

‘I do. But Geralt doesn’t trust you, and our teacher, Vesemir, he’s an even harder stone to wear down when it comes to monsters.’ 

‘Is he the one that can help me?’ She asked.

Lambert hesitated. ‘Potentially. Although, me bringing you here is already a risk, if you start leaping off the parapets like a demented harpy I don’t think the old coot is going to be inclined to listen to your side of the story.’

She studied him for a second. Despite his usual sardonic tone, his words seemed sincere. In fact, she could have sworn she saw a touch of worry in his amber eyes. 

‘Fine.’ She answered simply, ‘No jumping off parapets. Got it.’ He regarded for a moment, then clearly satisfied she was telling the truth he released her arm slowly and nodded to where the other two were disappearing over the ridge. 

‘Come on then. Want to get there before Imbaelk.’ Ellie frowned at the strange word he used, but decided not to interrogate him on the side of a freezing mountain. She resolved to ask Eskel about it later, he was always more forthcoming with her questioning. They set off again in silence, Ellie a few steps behind Lambert. As they journeyed on the temperature dropped further, if that was even possible, until finally she felt the faint, tickling touches of snowflakes hitting her skin. Looking up she saw the gathering grey clouds above them, their soft appearance belaying the storm they held within. They were just reaching the pass, the only opening in the impenetrable wall of mountains, when the previous light flurry, thickened into an all-out blizzard. 

The witchers hunched their shoulders against the storm, their leather armour and thick clothes doing a lot to keep them warm. Ellie on the other hand resorted to practically hugging Horse’s hind quarters, her meagre dress now a proper issue. It was impossible to hear or see much in the storm, her guides blurred shadows in a white haze. Lambert however, turned his head ever so slightly and saw the girl pressed against his mount’s rear. Foregoing his usual biting remark about her lack of clothes he rooted out his blanket again and tossed it towards her. Even with her numb hands she still managed to snatch the fabric out of the air before the wind took it hungrily in its grasp. It still smelt of him and her, their scents mixed in amongst the warm wool as she wrapped it around her shoulders gratefully. She didn’t have time to thank him before he had turned away, his figure disappearing into the blizzard.

By the time the snow had eased, Ellie was sure if she was going to die, it would be frozen to death up here. Either that or she’d be a living icicle on the mountain side for eternity. As the visibility improved she could see they were flanked on either side by towering rock walls. They were worn smooth by years of erosion from snow and rain. Compared to the cliffs further down the mountain there were very few places to grab hold and climb here. From the thinness of the air as well she could tell they were high up, likely near the snow-capped peaks she had seen earlier from a far. 

After what felt like forever, the path gradually started to descend. As it did the snow lessened more and more until it was back to the gentle flurry that had signalled the start of the white haze. Ahead of her the witchers shook off the snow that had collected on their armour. Forcing her frozen arms to move, she shrugged her own coating of ice off of the blanket. It fell in great clumps at her feet with a soft thud, causing Lambert to glance back at her. His expression was guarded but she saw his eyes rake over her. Despite her numb state, a small, flicker of warmth lit up inside her at the look. 

The pass opened out after continuing down at a steep angle for another hour, the high rock walls falling away abruptly to reveal the valley beyond. Ellie felt the breath catch in her throat as she looked through the dancing snowflakes at the scene laid out before her. The clouds were thinning and in places had gone entirely, as if the storm was in another world and they had passed through a gateway. The sun was beginning to set behind them and the mountain pass they had just come through, casting long shadows along the valley floor. Where the sun did touch, it lit the mountains on either side in a golden light. Warming the slate grey stone. Some of the thick forest that lined the valley floor was also glowing in the evening sun, turning the dark greens and browns, vibrant reds and oranges. It looked like the forest was on fire from here. A meandering river snaked its way through the centre of the valley, its fast-flowing water glittering in the light. 

For as far as the eye could see there was nothing but forest and mountains. No pockets of civilisation; no villages, no farms, no people. It was about as far away from the bustling cities that Ellie knew. For a brief moment she was reminded of her home…her first home. When she had been human. A house set in a quiet village, on the outskirts of a forest. Her chest squeezed tightly, although it had been years and years since her heart had beat. This was a sanctuary, and she had been allowed in. 

The group made their way down into the valley and off the mountain that blocked this wild paradise from the world on the other side. As soon as they had reached the first of the trees the witchers began the familiar ritual of setting up camp. The very fact they still had days to travel made Ellie wonder just how secure these witcher’s had needed their home to be. There was a history there that made her burn with curiosity, but she could see by the weary set of their shoulders that tonight was not the time for questions. Even some of Eskel’s joviality was dampened by their difficult journey through the pass. 

They travelled through the forest, following the river for two more days. Mercifully the temperature, although still cold was back to a bearable level. The snow left behind them on the mountain top. Even though they had left the precarious mountain pass behind the ground was still steep in places and very difficult to traverse. There were no signs of a path or any sort of route through the trees, but her guides never faltered in their walking. Striding confidently forward and even chatting amongst themselves, seemingly not paying attention to where they were going. Ellie found her renewed strength extremely useful for keeping up with them. She wasn’t familiar with their surroundings and so keeping one eye on her feet and one eye on the witchers was essential to not face planting from a misplaced foot. 

Halfway through the second day a very faint path appeared as if out of nowhere alongside the river. It was little more than a strip of worn dirt, from multiple hooves traversing it. It was at this point the ground began to slope upwards once more, but before Ellie could get concerned about the chance of more snow her witcher guides mounted their horses again. Without a word Lambert offered his hand out to her and partly out of habit and partly down to a fear of freezing again, she accepted it. 

This was how she got her first look at the keep of Kaer Morhen. Riding on horseback, with the steady beat of Lambert’s heart at her back. It appeared as if in a dream. A great monolith of light grey stone, looking like it had been carved from the mountain it was set against. The forest they had been walking through for two days circled its base, the great towering trees dwarfed by the keep. The gigantic cliffs of stone surrounding it were wreathed in ethereal mist that curled around the many parapets that Lambert had mentioned. The concentric circular walls and increasing height level on level, reminded her of home, the demon city of Purgatory. There was something of the mythical about it, like it shouldn’t really exist. An unbelievable feat built high up in this secluded valley. 

‘Home sweet home.’ Lambert muttered as they made their way along the path leading down to it. 

As they got closer, Ellie was able to see that the impenetrable fortress was actually crumbling, quite significantly in places. Great, gaping holes in the outer walls, thick columns of twisting ivy climbing the architecture that was still standing. Just peaking over the, at least, eighty-foot-high wall was the keep proper. Cracks and one collapsed tower visible. It had an air of sad neglect about it, as if this once great structure had seen its best days and now it was just slowly disappearing back into the wilderness that had made it. 

It wasn’t long before the path ended, coming to a medieval style drawbridge. A portcullis blocked the entrance to the keep, made of thick oak beams. Once again Ellie wondered what exactly had been the purpose for all this defence when it was already in the middle of nowhere. Seemed like overkill. As she stared in wonder at the colossal gates of Kaer Morhen, a wizened, grey haired head appeared over one of the parapets to the side of them. Ellie started at the sudden, unexpected motion but the witchers barely twitched a finger as they looked up at the old man. This, she thought, must be Vesemir.

‘Wait all year for you fools, and three of you show up at once. What time do you call this?’ His familiar amber eyes narrowed as he focused on Ellie sat very conspicuously in front of Lambert. ‘And _who,_ pray tell…is that?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are part two. Things are going to get a little complicated for our pair from here on out. Thank you for all your lovely comments, they mean the world to me and inspire me to keep going. This is likely going to be my longest story yet. I look forward to these Wednesdays and I'll see you all next week. As always, read, review and enjoy! :)


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

‘Open the fucking gate Vesemir.’ Lambert shouted. 

Eskel and Geralt both gave him looks of outrage but he’d been travelling long enough that he didn’t give a nekker’s nuts what the old coot thought of his attitude.

‘Ever the diplomat Lambert. I see another year on the Path hasn’t improved your manners.’ Vesemir said sourly.

‘Nope, and they’re only going to get worse the longer I’m out here.’ He sniped back. He felt a swell of satisfaction as the old witcher’s mouth twisted into a disapproving line before he retracted his head muttering, ‘Give me a second.’

‘You need to show him more respect.’ Geralt said.

Lambert sneered at his brother. ‘And I will, when the rigid old bastard relaxes.’ Eskel let out a low chuckle as the ancient portcullis creaked open. 

‘Yeah, like that’ll ever happen.’ He said, giving Blue eyes a wink. A knot of jealousy twisted in Lambert’s gut. Eskel and the girl had been getting closer and closer since they had begun travelling together. He knew it was because the older witcher was probably the most approachable out of the lot of them. He always knew what to say to defuse a situation, or make someone feel better after a shitty round of training, but seeing the way Blue eyes gravitated towards him made Lambert want to punch something. _Really_ hard.

The gate finished its sluggish trajectory up with a loud boom. The old man was getting slow in his age, there was a time he could raise it in under ten seconds alone. Now it took him thirty. The witchers rode through the entrance way, and into the timeless, if not very run down, training yard. Lambert felt his mood already darkening as he took in the training dummies lined against the wall, the ramshackle stables off to one side and the gruelling, and achingly familiar assault course set high on the walls above them. He grimaced as he pulled Whoreson to a halt, taking in the bitter sweet feeling of being home.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the stocky figure of Vesemir approaching them. The other two dismounted and moved to embrace the older witcher. Lambert watched from his horse, Blue eyes as still as stone in front of him, although her head was turned to the reunion happening next to them.

‘How you been Vesemir? Still spending your retirement looking after this old place I see.’ Eskel patted his teacher heartily on the back. His scarred face beaming.

‘I wouldn’t call it a retirement.’ Vesemir chuckled, turning towards Geralt he pulled him into a hug. ‘It’s been too long White wolf. I look forward to hearing all your tales, it’s the closest I come to any action these days.’ 

Geralt snorted. ‘We’ll let Lambert start.’ 

Vesemir turned towards the still mounted Lambert, his keen eyes focusing on his passenger again. ‘Yes, I think we will.’ 

Taking a few steps forward, the old witcher’s expression was granite hard. As he got within two feet of the horse and its two riders, his nostrils flared as he scented the air. Lambert felt Ellie stiffen, and he could sense her nervousness at being analysed. 

‘I was hoping you could help me with something actually.’ Lambert said, hoping to distract Vesemir and find a better time to break the news of his visitor to him gently. 

‘Oh yes?’ The old witcher replied, his eyes zeroing in on Lambert, narrowed to fine slits now. ‘And what exactly can I help you with seeing as you’ve brought a stranger into our sanctuary.’ 

Lambert felt his temper flare, but he kept a tight lid on it. _Think like Eskel_ , he thought, _diplomacy is the only way through this_. 

‘Lambert thought he’d bring a demon with him for the winter.’ Geralt’s gruff voice interrupted before Lambert could reply. The very thin veneer of patience he had managed to summon cracked dangerously, and he glared at his brother. He had always been a taddle tail.

‘Thanks, you fucking whoreson.’ He spat, swinging down from his horse and placing himself strategically between Blue eyes and his old teacher. Vesemir’s eyes had shot open at Geralt’s revelation, and Lambert could smell the adrenaline now pounding through the old coot’s dried up veins. Great, this was going _just_ great.

‘A…demon, Lambert? What in Melitele’s wisdom were you thinking?’ His voice had that stern edge to it that Lambert had heard many times in his youth. It signalled an impending beating for his misdemeanours, but he wasn’t a boy anymore and this was his argument to win. 

‘If you’ll just hear me out, I can explain everything. She’s not a threat, I swear.’ 

‘Never, in my six hundred years have I had a pupil so idiotic and hot headed as you. Why do you think I’ll listen to reason from a man who barely knows the meaning of the word?’

Lambert clenched his teeth together. I mean…the man had a point, but still…he had hoped there was more trust amongst his fellow wolves than this. He held up his hands, forcing his pride down, and dipped his head ever so slightly as he looked at the older witcher.

‘ _Please_ Vesemir. I’m _begging_ you to listen.’ At this Vesemir’s enraged expression softened with surprise. Taking a step back he regarded the girl watching all of this from atop his horse. There was a very tense moment of silence, in which Lambert could see Geralt’s own mistrustful look towards him and Blue eyes – he’d get him later – and Eskel’s concerned expression as he witnessed this awkward introduction.

‘Fine.’ Vesemir finally said. ‘I will listen. But you are under trial as well boy, mark my words.’ He jabbed a finger at Lambert before turning and stalking back up to the keep. Lambert felt a roiling anger at the diminutive term, but impressively managed to remain silent. Geralt gave them both another look of caution as he followed his mentor. 

Once they were alone in the training yard Eskel let out a low whistle. ‘Well, that was an interesting arrival.’ He came over to them, his gaze fixed on Blue eyes. ‘You alright El? I thought the old guy was gonna’ chop you in half right here in the entrance.’ 

‘Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing I haven’t seen before.’ Her voice was sad and small, and Lambert felt another surge of anger towards Vesemir and Geralt for the way that had gone. 

‘Fucking Geralt. You know, would it hurt him to remove his head from Vesemir’s ass once in a while?’ Eskel gave him a critical look.

‘Go easy Lambert, you know Geralt’s had some pretty intense run in’s with demons in the past.’ He saw the girl straighten on the horse at this but he was tired and crochety from their bumpy welcome, and he really just wanted to sit down and recover from their journey.

‘Let’s get this over with. I don’t want to give the old bastard any more reasons to hate me.’ The girl slid off Whoreson, an uncertain look in her eyes. They were a sky blue but there were definitely clouds on the horizon. Leaving his horse with the other two in the stables, Lambert led the three of them up through the secondary and third walls until they came to the main keep entrance. 

The place was only just standing; massive cracks zig-zagged their way up the sheer walls. The tops of the towers disintegrating, leaving great slabs of fallen stone dotted around the inner courtyard. Weeds and plants pushed up through the cobblestone. It seemed that Kaer Morhen had done a good job of keeping out foes but nature was something that could not be held at bay. Even though he held an unnaturally vivid disdain for the place, Lambert felt a twinge of regret at how run down the keep had become in just a year.

Pushing their way through the double oak doors, Lambert and Eskel trod the familiar path to the main hall. The cavernous room was equal parts cluttered with all the old, dusty furniture and equipment that came with a witcher school, and equals parts noticeably empty. Empty of the hundred or so witchers that it was meant to house. In its prime the hall would have been filled with long wooden tables and benches, for the witchers and their students to eat at. They would have been ranked in order of status and experience. With the elder witchers, mainly the teachers, seated at the end of the hall next to the gaping maw of the fireplace, and the youngest boys seated nearest the door. 

Lambert remembered with reluctant clarity the first time he had walked through the doors and set eyes on the imposing arched buttresses made of the same grey stone as the mountains outside. The walls lined with the school’s most valuable and prestigious trophies. He had been most alarmed by the snarling fiend’s head that had been mounted close to the door, and remembered flinching from it. However, a dead fiend was nothing to the sight of dozens of glowing amber eyes watching him hungrily, as he shuffled with the group of boys he had arrived with to be introduced to the grandmaster, a witcher called Rennes. At his side had been Vesemir, his gaze disapproving, as it would remain for the rest of Lambert’s life in the keep.

The old witcher was stood by that same fire now. His arms were crossed and he watched with eyes lit by the firelight as Lambert approached. Sat on the only table still in use was Geralt, his hands clasped in front of him. He looked over from the conversation he had been having with another person who wasn’t high on his friend list. Lambert’s mouth twisted into a sneer as he recognised the auburn hair and forest green eyes of Triss Merigold. She returned the look, having never quite seen eye to eye with the bitter witcher.

‘What’s _she_ doing here?’ He asked, stomping up to the table and staring down at the sorceress with a contemptuous look. 

‘ _She_ has a name you know.’ She replied.

‘Apologies Merigold, I forgot you preferred the formality of the courts to our course witcher ways.’ He stopped short of bowing sarcastically to her, but Geralt and Vesemir still gave him venomous looks. He’d almost forgotten what was happening, so pissed off he’d been about Merigold’s unexpected presence. Then the sound of light footsteps stopping behind him and the sorceress’ wary glance over his shoulder reminded him. 

‘So, demon. I assume you can speak for yourself in this matter? Melitele knows Lambert isn’t going to do you any favours.’ Vesemir addressed the girl stood behind him. He was using the same voice he reserved for when Lambert had done something particularly devious but wanted the boy to confess first.

An expectant silence fell over the hall, as everyone looked at the strange girl in their midst. She stood, off to one side, still wearing his tatty spare shirt and her odd cut off trousers. Her arms were wrapped around her stomach, an anxiousness about her posture. It was the most scared he’d seen her since the witcher attack. Her now royal blue eyes darted from face to face, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

They were gathered around her in a semi-circle. Lambert stood the closest, by her right shoulder. There was something about the way the other witchers and Merigold looked at them, even Eskel had a serious expression, that made Lambert’s skin prickle ominously. There was a small shift by his side as the girl took in a deep breath, preparing to make her defence to the stand.

‘I don’t really know what I can say to assure you I’m not here to hurt you.’ Her eyes went from Vesemir to Geralt. ‘I mean…I’ve not harmed Lambert since he found me. And I didn’t attack you on the journey here.’ She shrugged, her eyes flicking to Lambert. ‘All I can do is hope you believe me and help me understand why I’m here. He brought me here for that reason, no other. Don’t punish him for his kindness.’ 

A long, lingering silence fell after she finished her case. Lambert a little shell shocked from her final statement. _Him…kind?_ Now they’d be certain she was deranged. Vesemir regarded her for a moment, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know much about your kind. Hearsay and books are the limit of my knowledge. I do know, however, that demons are notoriously deceptive and dangerous. Geralt has had intimate experience with them.’ At this he turned to the White wolf, his expression grim. ‘What say you? You travelled with the creature.’ 

Lambert felt Blue eyes flinch slightly at the word ‘creature’. A cold anger towards the old witcher flooded through him. Geralt said nothing for a time, staring unblinking at the girl next to him. 

‘She claims to be half human.’ He started, his gravelly voice slow. ‘She also claims to be harmless but I’ve witnessed her leap halfway up a mountain, and down a witcher with a powerful, unknown magic.’ The cold anger filled Lambert’s gut and he clenched his fists as he listened to his brother’s testimony. ‘I don’t think she has deceived Lambert, nor do I believe she has made a pact with her. But I _do_ think his judgement has been clouded…for other reasons.’ 

The anger turned from ice to flaming hot in a matter of seconds as Geralt turned his stony gaze on Lambert. Merigold raised her eyebrows and gave him an odd look that only served to stoke the fire. ‘What a fortunate time for you to find your voice.’ He bit out through tightly clenched teeth. ‘I don’t think I’ve heard you speak so eloquently without a barrel of ale inside you.’ 

Geralt raised an eyebrow at his brother’s sarcastic comment. ‘Enough.’ Vesemir’s rough voice drew them away from their glaring contest. ‘You will have your say Lambert, but there are others you’ve now involved and I need to hear their opinions.’ He gave his most troublesome pupil a cold stare. ‘As hard as that is for you to stomach.’

The young witcher shot an angry glance around the room. The only pair of sympathetic eyes he found were Eskel’s and that did nothing to calm his temper. 

‘With all due _respect_ , mine is the only opinion that gives you the whole picture. I was the one to find her, I’m the one who has been with her the longest.’ At this he looked down at the strange, confusing girl next to him. She wasn’t looking at him, her attention on the people deciding her fate, but with the subtlest of movements he felt a hand grip his arm and give it a gentle squeeze. The motion wasn’t lost on Vesemir, his eagle eyes darting to where her hand touched him. Lambert saw his mouth stretch to a dangerously thin line as he levelled his teacher’s gaze at him.

‘That maybe true but I can see that Geralt was correct. Your judgement is clouded. I assume you were contracted to _kill_ the girl, that’s how you found her?’ 

Lambert could do little but nod. Lying now would only get them into more trouble, and as much he didn’t care what the others thought of him, Blue eyes did. 

‘There we are. So, after failing to do the deed you decided to help her instead? And bring her not only to your home, but unbound and travelling as an equal as well.’ 

He felt the atmosphere in the room shift as Vesemir spoke. Now even Eskel was eyeing them both suspiciously. Merigold’s attention was locked on Blue eyes, and he saw her mouth moving infinitesimally, no sound coming from her. The hair on the back of his neck rose, and his medallion gave a small tremor simultaneously to the girl next to him flinching, pulling her hand from his arm as if she had been burnt.

‘Whatever the _fuck_ you’re doing Merigold, you better stop it right now.’ Lambert said, his tone deadly. He knew losing his temper now would go bad for them, but he couldn’t stop the frustration and annoyance at being interrogated like this.

‘Leave her Lambert.’ Vesemir snapped, his old eyes blazing. ‘I trained you myself and I can only feel disappointed at the lack of precautions you’ve taken securing this creature. She can say all she likes that she is safe but words mean little.’ 

‘She can’t kill people, if that’s what you’re worried about.’ Lambert countered. The three witchers shared looks of confusion, Geralt and Eskel especially. 

‘You mean she can’t _be_ killed, yeah?’ Eskel tried to correct tentatively. 

‘I meant what I said cock sucker.’ He levelled his gaze on Vesemir, all pretence of respect gone now. ‘On the road she was attacked by a bunch of whoreson mercenaries. They tried to rape her and another girl. I saw Blue eyes knock every one of those motherfuckers out like they were training dummies, she could have easily slit their throats or fried them with her lightning magic. She didn’t. Despite them deserving it. When I asked why, she told me she can’t kill, and if I’m being honest, in the near month I’ve known her now, she’s never done any malicious harm to _anything_ we’ve encountered.’ He rounded on Geralt. ‘Isn’t that what you say. You only kill monsters that harm others. Well…’. With that he waved a hand at the girl stood next to him. 

Since her brief speech at the start Blue eyes hadn’t said a word in her defence. Letting these strangers decide her fate in front of her. Whether it be some deep-rooted rebellion at the authority of this ass backwards place, or a sense of honour that he had to uphold to the girl he had promised to get home, Lambert felt a surge of righteous anger at the hypocrites gathered before him. 

‘You harp on at me for being a loose cannon and not thinking things through, well I thought it through. She’s sentient. She’s here against her own will, and she’s not taken a single life in my presence. If that makes me a shitty witcher well…I’ve always been the black sheep, no reason for me to start conforming now.’ 

Another tense silence settled on the group. The large fire behind Vesemir crackling loudly in the cavernous hall. The old witcher took a step towards them, his eyes on the girl. ‘Seems you have a fierce champion in Lambert.’ His mouth twisted when she didn’t respond. Her clear blue eyes looking back at him serenely. ‘Still, we can’t truly know your thoughts unless…’. He turned to the sorceress sat next to Geralt. 

‘Triss, did you manage to see anything?’ Every muscle in Lambert’s body tensed and he took an instinctual step towards the red-haired witch. Geralt was on his feet in an instant, his stance defensive as he placed himself between his brother and the woman. She watched the pair with wary eyes. 

‘Relax Lambert.’ He growled. Lambert sneered at the pair. He had always loathed Geralt’s penchant for taking sorceress’ as lovers. They were a slippery lot and couldn’t be trusted an inch. Merigold’s sly use of magic on Blue eyes was evidence enough of that.

She shook her head at Vesemir, her prim little mouth turning down in disdain. ‘No, sorry. Seems there are some pretty impressive walls around this demon’s mind.’ 

Lambert looked back at the girl, automatically assessing her for signs of distress. Blue eyes just looked back at him, that same serene expression she had given Vesemir on her face.

‘Unfortunate. It would have simplified things.’

‘There is, maybe, another way.’ Merigold piped up as Vesemir looked ready to conclude. 

‘Yes?’ 

The sorceress glanced briefly at Geralt. He frowned back at her. ‘I could try scrying.’ Everyone looked at her, waiting expectantly for her to elaborate. With a reluctant sigh Merigold continued. ‘I know a ritual that would help me peer into someone’s mind by lowering any barriers that may be blocking normal means of mind reading. It’s not my forte and I would need some time to prepare, but I think I could manage it.’ 

Vesemir nodded after a moment of thought. ‘That may work Triss. Do you think it would reveal if this demon had any malintent?’ 

‘It should. If it works. There will be little she will be able to hide from me.’ Lambert took another step, this time to the side so he was blocking the sorceress’ view of the girl behind him.

‘And what if I refuse to let you do this?’ Now it was Vesemir’s turn to approach him.

‘Then we will deal with the creature and punish you accordingly. You’ve broken enough rules already today, do _not_ test my patience any further.’ Lambert squared up to his old teacher.

‘What’s to stop Merigold from lying about what she sees?’ 

‘I wouldn’t do that.’ She interjected, outraged. 

‘You’re on thin ice Lambert.’ Geralt said in a dangerously quiet voice. The tension was rising rapidly now, and Lambert could feel all reason slipping away from him.

‘No offence…actually, _fuck that_ , every offence Geralt, but I don’t trust any of your beaus as far as I could throw them. It’s not a fair trial unless we can _all_ see the results.’ 

‘Trial seems like a strong word brother.’ Eskel cut in. His was the only voice that remained calm and cool. His eyes flicking to the girl at the centre of the argument every few seconds. 

‘Trial is exactly what it is. So, I demand a fair one.’ 

Vesemir shook his head, his expression weary. ‘Of all the times for you to grow a conscious, it had to be now.’ Lambert folded his arms and glared, unmoving at his fellow witchers. Vesemir let out a long, world weary sigh. ‘Is it possible?’ He asked Merigold.

The red-haired sorceress thought for a moment, an anxious look on her face. ‘In…theory.’ She began tentatively. ‘I know of a spell that could do it, but I’d need help.’ At this she looked pointedly at the still standing Geralt, and Lambert felt his stomach drop.

‘No! Oh, no! One witch is bad enough but I refuse to let that black haired harpy-’. Geralt was around the table and nose to nose with Lambert in a second. Their height difference was evident from such close quarters, and he felt a surge of bitter jealously towards the other witcher. 

‘Careful.’ Geralt said, his tone unwavering. His eyes blazed with a vehement fire, over his shoulder Lambert could just make out Merigold’s hurt expression at the violent way he had reacted. Love was an ever-complicated thing. 

‘Enough!’ Vesemir suddenly appeared between the two of them, shoving them out of each other’s faces.

‘I’ll need Yen’s help to project the images. I can’t do both.’ Merigold almost sounded sorry as she spoke. It was a shit situation, but if Blue eyes was going to prove her trustworthiness there seemed little choice. At least they would _all_ be able to see what was being seen by Merigold. 

‘Fine.’ He finally spat out. Backing up to stand next to the girl that had caused all this drama. 

‘Good. That’s settled. How much time do you need to prepare?’ Vesemir said, turning to the sorceress.

‘About three days.’ 

‘So be it. Geralt, you ask Yennefer to come here. Eskel and Lambert will help you gather whatever you need for the ritual.’

‘Will I fuck.’ Lambert protested, but a sharp glare from the old witcher made him clamp his mouth shut. 

‘In the meantime, the demon will be kept in the cells downstairs. The dimeritium bars should hold her.’ 

Lambert snapped. The stress of returning to this epicentre of resentment and shitty memories added to the particularly one-sided interrogation he had just witnessed, had finally worn out his limited patience. ‘The fucking cells Vesemir! She’s not going anywhere! Why won’t you just listen you rigid old coot!’

Geralt’s fist connected with the side of his face, too quick for him to evade. Lambert staggered back, clutching a hand to his already throbbing chin. The anger and adrenaline coursed through him as he leapt at his brother, his own hands clenched into tight fists. He could see Geralt shifting into a defensive position. Eskel and Vesemir both stood off to the side. One with a shocked expression, the other regarding the fight with narrowed eyes. Lambert’s vision zeroed in on his opponent, the others fading into blackness. He had sparred with Geralt hundreds of times, he had won few and lost many. The White wolf’s extra mutagens giving him the edge on brute strength. However, despite the odds Lambert was fucked if he was going to let him win this time. As far as he was concerned, this whole farce had been triggered by him and his eagerness to proclaim the girl’s nature.

He pulled back his fist, planning to feint and draw Geralt’s defence away from his face. As he moved to strike a blurred motion distracted him for an instant, the trajectory of his fist faltering as he tried to pinpoint where it had come from. Then, as if out of nowhere, a recognisable pair of sapphire blue eyes appeared in front of him. Directly in the path of his flying fist. 

‘Stop!’ Her voice was the loudest it had been since she had arrived here. Ringing out like a reverberating bell in the giant hall. Both Lambert and Geralt froze, her sudden appearance startling both witchers. Lambert staggered forward a few steps, the momentum of his attack hard to bring to an immediate stop. She had moved with the same unnatural speed she’d used in the pass. She was speaking to both of them but looked only at him. ‘I won’t have you beating each other up on my behalf.’ She said a little quieter, giving him a stern, stormy eyed glare.

Turning to Vesemir she spoke even softer. That strange sereneness coming over her again. ‘I except your conditions. If it goes some way to gain your trust then it’ll be worth it. Lambert seems to think you can help me and I’m eager for you to do so.’ She gave him a tentative smile, inclined her head a fraction and waited, head bowed for him to respond. 

The old witcher looked at her with judging eyes, the same ones that had assessed Lambert when he had stood before him on his first night here. In that moment he felt a pang of sympathy for the demon girl. Being thrust into a strange land with no one but a supposed enemy for help, brought to this draughty keep full of outdated principles and tortured ghosts, and put on trial for being simply who she was. He could relate.

‘So be it.’ Vesemir finally said, his tone grave. ‘Eskel, would you do the honours?’ 

Eskel took a step forward, his hand outstretched towards Blue eyes before Lambert grabbed his wrist. 

‘She’s my prisoner, I’ll take her to the cells.’ 

‘No. Eskel will.’ Before Lambert could direct his wrath back at the old witcher, Vesemir cut him off. ‘You are clearly too emotionally invested in this. I forbid you from seeing the demon until after I have decided her fate.’ He waved a hand for Eskel to continue, and with an apologetic look which didn’t quite reach his eyes, Eskel removed his hand with a jerk from Lambert’s grasp. 

‘Now, I’m done with all this serious talk. Let’s eat.’ 

Lambert stood stuck in place as the girl he had brought all the way from the backwaters of Velen was led away by his brother. Vesemir walked over to Merigold and sat down, and after a venomous warning glare, Geralt returned to his seat next to her. Blue eyes glanced back once, her gaze connecting with his as Eskel took her to the stairs leading down to Kaer Morhen’s barely used cells. Her mouth twitched up at the corner, but there was a pleading look in her eyes. As if she were willing him not to cause trouble.

His jaw clenched and he stood watching the place where she had been, long after Eskel had disappeared with her below. It was only when he returned and laid a hand on Lambert’s shoulder as he passed, that he finally broke his trance.

‘She’ll be fine. The girl’s tough.’ Lambert wanted to say something cutting, something to make Eskel flinch away or roll his eyes in exasperation but after seeing the way he had gently led her off, his grip on her more for show than force, he found his taste for spite dampened. 

‘I know.’ He muttered instead and walked with him to the table where Vesemir was already listening with rapt attention to one of Geralt’s stories from the Path. Lambert found it harder than usual to stay civil that night. He was silent as the others caught up and drank copious amounts of ale. He had his fair share of alcohol but it didn’t give him the buzz he was used to by now. Occasionally Eskel would try and draw him in, forever trying to make peace, but he gave one word answers and eventually he gave up. The others didn’t seem to care about his sullen mood, and he quite frankly didn’t care about them. 

As the day drew to a close and night settled on the keep, the group moved closer to the fire. It was still Autumn but there was a chill in the air and in the cavernous hall it hit harder than anywhere else at night. Finally, wearied from travelling everyone made their goodnights and began dispersing from the group. Lambert’s eyes followed Merigold as she made her way to the guest room upstairs, his mouth twisting in a smug smile as Geralt chose to go to his bed in the hall instead of following an hour later. So, he was still sticking with the purple eyed one. That would create some awkward tension when she arrived to perform whatever freaky ritual they were planning to do.

When the others had left and he had run out of ale yet again, Lambert decided to turn in. Staggering to his cot set against one side of the hall, he collapsed into it fully clothed next to a snoring Geralt and drooling Eskel. Staring up at the dusty rafters he saw his breath mist in front of his face, the cold now tightening its grip on the place as the moon rose higher outside. 

He tried to clear his mind, willing the alcohol to do its work and make him forget. The first night was always the worst in this place. He would often swear he could hear the screams of agony echoing though the hall. Screams of terror and fear, as the boys he had arrived with, his friends, were ripped apart from the inside so they could be remade into witchers. How many had died in that process? Too many. It was an annual tradition now for him to drink himself into a stupor so he could drown out those screams. Keep the nightmares at bay. 

This night was different. Despite his less than ideal lucid state he couldn’t hear screams. Instead his thoughts drifted down from the fur lined cot he was lying in, away from the memories carved into the very walls. Through the thick stone of the keep’s floors, to the girl now locked in the freezing cells below. He had never been one to give a fuck about fate, but he hoped to the gods it was kind to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many lovely comments this week, thank you one and all. I had a bit of a rough patch with these next few chapters, but got through it and am now shooting my way through chapter 19. As was probably obvious from last week, Vesemir is in this story. I have set it roughly right before the Witcher 3 game, but there are differences due to it technically being a different timeline where Ellie came through. There will also be some spoilers for the Hearts of stone expansion later down the line, so a heads up if you don't want any. That's enough from me, I'll see you all next week and leave you to read, review and enjoy! :)


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Ellie had been in some shit places in her life but this was pretty high up on the top five list. The torch Eskel had left burning in the sconce outside had burnt out hours ago, and the dark only added to the general décor. It made it slightly easier to ignore the numerous rats’ nests dotted around the cramped cell, although she could still hear and definitely smell them. The jagged stone walls were slick with mildew and moss, the floor wasn’t much better, only improved infinitesimally by a thin layer of straw which had long gone mouldy.

Eskel had made a face as he led her into the cold prison cell which was to be her home until further notice. She felt bad for him, he had been one of the only ones beside Lambert, who had been on her side. She had given him a smile as she willingly walked into the cell he’d indicated and watch with regret as he left her alone for the night. He had promised to return the next day but that felt like years now she was left to her own thoughts.

Her back was pressed against the far wall, her knees drawn up to her chest in her favoured position. Partly for comfort, and partly for warmth. The cell was by no means as cold as the mountain pass but it wasn’t far off. Even through the thick stone of the walls and the layers of rock outside she could hear the wind howling round the keep like a pack of angry wolves. The sound was desolate and forlorn, it reminded her of the sad, dilapidated condition of Kaer Morhen; the hall as large as the barracks back home in Purgatory, but empty and abandoned. She only just met him, but Vesemir felt like the last guard of an ancient order.

She let her head rest against the freezing stone of her prison, and shut her eyes. Had she been foolish, to follow this man she barely knew to a place she had never seen to ask for aid from people that saw her as only a monster? A wiser person might have said yes, but Ellie had been in similar situations before. Fuck, her whole life had been following people she barely knew into unknown situations. Why stop now? Still, a festering seed of doubt had planted deep inside her at the mention of a mind reading ritual. Did she want these slayers to look inside and see all the things she had done and all she was capable of?

Solomon had always taught her to trust where the doors took her, but this door, the one that had brought her here, had not been by her hand. Maybe now was the time to run. Opening her eyes again she looked around her dark cell for something to write with. After sifting her hands through the stinking straw, she found a fair-sized stone, not sharp but rough. Holding it firmly in her hand she began to scratch out the homing mark on the wall. A triangle surrounding a cross. The key to get back to Purgatory. 

Sinking to the floor in front of it, she crossed her legs and rested her hands on her knees. She began to clear her mind of everything that had happened over the past few weeks. Meeting Lambert, travelling with him and his friends, encountering griffins and water hags, begin hunted, seeing Kaer Morhen for the first time, the moment by the waterfall. Her eyes flickered open. Reflexively she looked up at the low stone ceiling, covered in dripping stalactites. The thread that had led her here and guided most of her decisions, gave a tug on her gut as she looked up to where Lambert lay above her probably sleeping. She was grateful for all that he done for her, despite his abrasive attitude. She would be sorry to leave him. 

With a deep sigh she shut her eyes and focused on finding the snag that would take her back home. It took longer than normal to find the weak point between worlds, and when she tried to grasp it, it kept disappearing. As if someone was snatching it from her. After several hours of frustrating work and nothing to show for it, Ellie collapsed backwards into the pile of mouldy straw. Something was definitely not right. However, despite the failed attempt to escape her less than pleasant cell, Ellie couldn’t help feeling a tad relieved that she wouldn’t be leaving the witcher without saying goodbye.

She was alerted to the start of a new day by Eskel paying her a visit. Time seemed even more fluid than normal down here, the lack of light making it hard to pinpoint whether it was night or day being the main factor. She could smell him before she could see or hear him. Unlike Lambert, Eskel and Geralt both had a distinctly herby scent to them. Geralt’s was woody and brackish, similar to thyme, but Eskel had more of a fragrant smell about him. It reminded her of the rosemary that had grown in the woods near her childhood home. It was one of the things that had drawn her to him. The scarred witcher gave her one of his easy smiles as he approached the bars, a simple wooden bowl in his hand.

‘You know I don’t need that.’ She said, as he slid it through to her. 

‘I know. But gives me an excuse to come and see you. Don’t think old Vesemir wants any of us down here with you, but even he wouldn’t deny a prisoner food.’ He winked at her, she grinned back. Taking the bowl she eyed the witcher through the bars of her cell for a moment. 

‘How is he?’ Eskel didn’t need to ask who she was referring to. He scratched the back of his head, his expression uneasy.

‘You know Lambert. He’s surly and bitter as normal. Vesemir’s got him seeing to the eastern wall repair to distract him, but he’s already called Geralt a prick three times and told Vesemir to jump off a cliff so…not good.’ 

Ellie looked down at the bowl filled with a mushy white substance that looked similar to porridge, her brow furrowing. ‘He shouldn’t have spoken out like that. I don’t want to cause him anymore trouble.’ 

‘El.’ She looked up at the serious note in Eskel’s voice. He was staring at her through the bars, his face half lit by the torch he had brought down with him. It cast his scars into deep shadows, giving the gentle witcher an oddly sinister appearance. ‘He doesn’t need your guilt. He just needs you to be honest.’ 

The thread in her gut gave a sharp tug at his words, and she felt herself grimace as Eskel gave her a frank look. ‘I know you’ve said you’re not hiding anything, but there’s a lot we don’t know about you and what Triss and Yen are planning, well…let’s just say there won’t be anywhere for you to hide your skeletons.’ He placed the torch in the sconce and folded his arms. ‘Lambert isn’t one to show his feelings, but there’s something between you two that even a shaelmaar could see. All I ask is that you treat my brother with respect and don’t play him for a fool. Because he isn’t one…as much as he tries to convince us otherwise.’ 

A heavy weight had formed in Ellie’s chest as he spoke. As if his words where pushing down on her with every syllable. Once he had finished he gave her an equally heavy stare, then his expression softened. ‘Sorry again about the living arrangements. I’ll see if I can sneak down after supper. You be okay until then?’ 

‘Sure.’ Ellie said. A smile on her face but her voice quiet. Eskel gave her one last half-hearted grin before disappearing from view, back up the stairs. Plonking herself back down on her stinking bed of straw, Ellie put her head in her hands. Eskel’s words had struck deeper than even he probably knew. Yes, she had been honest whenever Lambert or the others asked a question but she had never been forthcoming with the details. Always skirting around, afraid if they looked too closely they’d see something they didn’t like and turn on her. Now she was sat in keep in the mountains, unable to open a doorway home and about to be subjected to an invasive mind probe that would splash all of her deepest darkest memories out in the open for all to see. As she waited for her next visit she sat in quiet misery, letting the rats mill around her hunched form, wishing she had told him more. Wishing she hadn’t been such a coward.

An indeterminate amount of hours passed before she smelt someone approaching from above. Her nostrils flared and her head snapped up as instead of the faint waft of rosemary that she’d been expecting, she caught the sharp tang of cinnamon on the air. His footsteps were deliberately quiet and for a moment Ellie was worried something was wrong. Then his familiar figure came into view, his face half hidden in shadow due to the now low burning torch. His expression was guarded, but there was the barest hint of a smug smile on his face as his eyes locked onto her. He lifted a finger to his lips and mimed for her to stay quiet, it was then she realised his light footsteps had been to conceal his presence.

Without thinking Ellie rose to her feet and moved towards the bars, her own feet making barely a whisper of sound across the straw covered stones. Moving next to the bars, she leant in to better see his face. Lambert mimicked her, moving right up to the cell and leaning down a little so they were only inches apart. 

‘How you doin’ Blue eyes?’ He asked in a low voice. A swell of warmth blossomed in her chest where Eskel’s weight had been. 

‘Been better.’ She joked, giving him a lopsided grin. His mouth twitched up at the corner. ‘I thought you weren’t allowed to see me?’ 

‘I’m not, but the old bastard isn’t as observant as he’d like to think. I have about ten minutes before he realises I’m not lugging stone anymore.’ There was an awkward pause as they both looked at each other. Ellie reached out a hand and flicked one of the dimeritium bars, it let out a dull metallic ring. 

‘Are you going to tell them this stuff has no effect on me, or shall I?’ Lambert let out a snort, his mouth now twisting up into a grin. Ellie’s stomach did a small somersault at the sight. 

‘How about we keep that between us for now?’ She nodded and they lapsed back into silence. Ellie found herself stuck for words. After their dramatic arrival to the keep and Eskel’s unexpectedly serious talk she couldn’t quite look the witcher full in the face, but she could feel his eyes searing into her.

‘You didn’t have to do that you know. I don’t want you to get in trouble with your mentor.’ 

‘He’s not my mentor.’ Lambert said sharply. ‘And I made you a promise.’ She looked up at his suddenly stern tone. The barely concealed anger he always seemed to carry around flashing in his amber eyes. As she stared at him, her brow furrowing in concern, the anger subsided. ‘They’re dickheads anyway, not like this is out of character for me.’ 

‘Eskel’s okay.’ She said in defence for the kindly witcher. Lambert’s mouth thinned into a sour grimace. 

‘Yeah, saw you two were buddying up on the ride here.’ Ellie raised an eyebrow at him.

‘Do I detect a hint of jealously there?’ 

Lambert turned his head away, his eyes narrowing. ‘You detect shit Blue eyes. I’m just stating a fact.’ 

The silence fell between them again, this time it was heavy with tension as Ellie tried to figure out why he was even here. As she took in the surly witcher, Eskel’s words came to mind again. ‘Hey, I just remembered. I still owe you two questions.’

His eyes snapped back to her, his eyebrows lowered in confusion. ‘Why you bringing that up now?’ 

She shrugged. ‘I don’t like to leave a debt unpaid. Plus, if I’m about to have my inner most thoughts broadcast for all to see I’d rather enlighten _you_ on a few points first. It’s the least I can do…’. She trailed off, the silence threatening to build again. 

‘Okay.’ Lambert finally said. He shifted his stance, one hand reaching up to scratch at his chin as he thought. His eyes slowly came down to rest on her hand which was now gripping the bars between them. ‘What is that glyph on your wrist?’ 

Ellie twisted her hand to reveal the symbol he was talking about. The slightly raised scar stood out in the flickering torchlight. It cast an orange glow on her skin, making it look like it had been freshly branded. 

‘This is the mark of the Gatekeepers. It means I’m an enforcer and guardian to the demon world.’ 

‘Sounds serious. So, what? You protect demons?’ Lambert’s sharp gaze was zeroed in on her. It was the same look Eskel had given her whenever he asked her questions. It was the look of a predator sizing up its prey, and Ellie found she didn’t enjoy Lambert using it. 

‘Not exactly. If anything, I protect everyone else from demons. Not all demons are good, just like not all humans are. Some like to cause trouble.’ 

Lambert scratched his chin again. ‘Why do I feel you’re still holding out on me?’ 

Ellie sighed, leaning her head on the cold bars. ‘It’s hard to explain. Most people only hear about the bad ones, they’re the ones that make unbreakable pacts, meddle in people’s lives and more often than not end up killing them. You rarely hear about the demons that helped humans discover fire, or control the weather for their crops, or deliver their souls safely to the other side when they die.’ She gave Lambert a hard look. ‘That’s because of us. _We_ keep the demons at a safe distance. _We_ stop the ones that get through and clean up any mess they leave behind. That’s what this mark represents, it represents my purpose in all of this.’

Lambert took a step back, assessing the girl trapped in the cell before him. Ellie watched him fearfully. It was the most she had spoken about her kind or her home, she was waiting for him to finally agree with the old one they called Vesemir and proclaim her dangerous. Instead, he tilted his head to one side. Dawning realisation coming over his features.

‘Is that why you’re not allowed to kill?’ Ellie nodded by way of reply and that dreaded silence began to build once more.

‘I cannot kill anything with an untainted soul. It’s against the law which binds me to Purgatory, the place where the demons live.’ Ellie noticed that for all of their interactions so far Lambert had been a lot more subdued than she was used to. Usually he adopted a superior arrogance that permeated in everything he said, as if he knew everything already. It was the Lambert she had grown accustomed to on her journey here. This Lambert however, watched her with a neutral expression, his eyes searching and wary. It was only amplified by the hushed voices they were speaking in, his normally abrasive, snarky tone gone.

‘Untainted? Fuck it all, Blue eyes. I don’t think I have enough questions to answer everything going on with you. What’s Purgatory? What makes a soul tainted? How did a human wind up in some freaky demon guard cult? You talk some bat shit crazy nonsense most of the time.’ He rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a long sigh as he did. ‘There are a lot of things I don’t know about in this world, let alone others. The more I get to know you, the more complicated this whole thing becomes. I just wanted to get you off my hands, now…’

He paused and in that beat of silence Ellie heard a thousand different meanings. His brow furrowed and she saw his mouth twist up slightly, as if he were in pain. ‘You know Vesemir and Geralt don’t trust you.’ 

She nodded, ‘What about you?’ Her voice was uncertain, unsure whether she wanted him to answer. 

‘I…I don’t know. Honestly, sometimes I wish I’d never accepted that contract on your head. My life would be a lot simpler right now.’ 

His words were like a knife to the gut. Ellie had to grip onto the bars to stop from doubling over from the phantom pain. ‘But a simple life was never on the cards for me anyway. And you’re awfully fucking interesting.’ She looked up at him again slowly, and almost gasped in relief at the half smile on his face. His amber eyes shining as he regarded her. ‘So, I guess I trust you. Just…don’t do anything stupid when the two witches do their thing okay? I don’t think I can piss off Vesemir enough to distract him a second time.’ 

‘I’ll do my best.’ She said, her voice barely more than a whisper. His smile grew and he turned to pass her something through the bars. 

‘Here. I figured you’d need this. This place is colder than a frost giant’s anus.’ Tentatively she took the woollen blanket he had pushed into the cell, her eyes prickling with tears from the kind act. 

‘I…’.

‘Don’t mention it Blue eyes. Thought of you freezing down here was keeping me up, and you know how I need my beauty sleep.’ His smile morphed into his famous arrogant smirk and Ellie felt her own mouth turning up into a wide grin. She looked into his warm eyes, memorising the golden flecks scattered through the amber, and he likewise stared back at her. Her skin began to warm up and not from the blanket which she had yet to do more than hold. 

After what felt like an age, Lambert cleared his throat and made to leave. ‘I won’t be able to come down again. So, I’ll see you for this ritual thing.’ His voice was suddenly strained as if he was holding something back. He took a few steps away, keeping his gaze averted to the floor. Ellie pushed herself up against the bars, so she could see him better.

‘Lambert.’ She called in a hushed voice. He paused, his back to her but she knew he was listening. ‘Thank you. For everything.’ She finally said. 

His shoulders seemed to sag at the words, then without responding he continued on up the stairs, disappearing into the dark.

Ellie watched the space where he had been for a few moments longer, then resumed her position at the back of the cell. She wrapped the blanket he had brought her around her shoulders, the soft fabric saturated with his cinnamon scent. Taking a deep breath, she drank it in. Letting it warm her from the inside as well as out. 

His unexpected visit had lifted her spirits; he hadn’t run from her or treated her with disdain. He’d been worried about her. Asking how she was and bringing a small comfort to help her. Despite this, the heavy weight that he had lifted temporarily began to push down on her again. Time and again she’d had everyone that mattered ripped away from her, now it was just easier to keep her distance. But she’d found that particular rule hard to keep with Lambert. No matter his obnoxious, at times, attitude and unorthodox way of talking, she just found herself drawn towards him. Like a magnet to an opposing pole. 

As she sat thinking on all the events that had brought her to this place, she pondered the most on their strange relationship. They had started out as captor and prisoner, a volatile and tenuous partnership, but as the miles had passed beneath them and the days turned into weeks, those roles had become blurred and muddied. Turning the nameless something between them into a worrying, undefined bond. 

* * *

Three days passed; or at least three further visits from Eskel came and went. He had managed to keep up the pretence of needing to feed her, and even though she enjoyed his brief, cheerful company, it was always with a slightly heavy heart that she smelt his familiar scent of rosemary approaching and not the warming tang of cinnamon.

On the third day she looked up from her makeshift nest of rotting straw and Lambert’s blanket that she had made to keep comfortable, as a new unfamiliar scent reached her nose. It was a confusing blend of cedar wood, sickly-sweet lilac and berries of some kind, and it took a moment to untangle the mess of smells. It was only as the sound of multiple footsteps descending the stairs reached her, that she deciphered the scents were not from one person but two. Seconds later, two very different silhouettes blocked out the dim lit from the new torch Eskel had brought her earlier that day.

‘It’s time demon.’ Vesemir’s weathered voice was easily attached to the broad shouldered, taller shadow before her but the slimmer one was unfamiliar to Ellie.

‘Is this her? I was expecting something more…formidable.’ This voice was smooth as silk and had a conceited edge to it. Ellie shifted from her nest and slowly rose to her feet, squinting against the torchlight. She could just make out a stunningly beautiful woman next to Vesemir, her perfect features framed by bountiful waves of jet-black hair. Her expression wasn’t unfriendly but it held a condescending air about it, as if she were looking down at the girl in the cell. 

Taking a step towards her visitors, Ellie gave the stranger a knowing smile. ‘So, are you the one here to probe my deepest thoughts? I was expecting someone more…intimidating.’ She said, her tone jovial. 

The beautiful woman looked taken aback for a moment before glancing at Vesemir and erupting into high peals of laughter. ‘Quite the tongue on her. I was wondering how a demon had managed to win over Lambert, now I know.’ She gave Ellie an appraising look as the old witcher let out a world-weary sigh.

‘If you’re done exchanging pleasantries Yennefer, I’d like to proceed with this. You and Triss have taken enough of our time and keep preparing, I’d like both back.’

Now she was closer to the bars Ellie could see the woman’s face in more refined detail. It had an ethereal, flawless beauty about it. Perfect almond shaped eyes, a cupid bow mouth and high cheekbones, all framed by that glossy black hair. She had an hourglass figure which was covered in an elaborate bodice and flowing skirt that was all black and white. But like so many of the people she had met in this world, it was the woman’s eyes that drew the most attention. They were a vivid violet colour, and they seemed to shimmer as they took in Ellie’s dishevelled appearance. Rarely did she care about the way she was perceived by others, but next to this unflawed human, Ellie suddenly felt woefully presented. 

‘Hold out your hands demon.’ Vesemir said, his tone abrupt and irritable. Yennefer gave him a tired look, her violet eyes rolling. 

Not wanting to ruin her chances any more than she already had, Ellie obediently held out her hands. If nothing else she would be grateful for the change of scenery. Vesemir reached through the bars and secured a very familiar looking pair of shackles onto her wrist. They were identical to the ones Lambert had kept her in at the start of their journey. 

With a grunt of satisfaction, the old witcher withdrew his hands and unlocked the cell, the door swinging open with a grating sound. With a jerk of his head Vesemir signalled for Ellie to walk out. Yennefer gave her a lingering look before stepping to one side to allow her through, positioning herself so she was between Ellie and the stairs to freedom. 

‘Shall we?’ She asked pleasantly. Giving Vesemir a sarcastic smile before turning elegantly on her high heeled boots and walking to the stairs. 

‘Don’t try anything.’ Vesemir said, leaning into Ellie as he gave her a forceful push in the direction Yennefer had gone. Catching herself easily, she began to walk slowly out of the prison, flanked by the strange woman and old witcher. It was in this order that she arrived back in the main hall of the keep. Bright sunlight streamed in through the high arched windows, casting the grey stone walls and raised buttresses in a completely different light to when she had entered a few days previous. 

Now she could see the amount of clutter filling the hall clearly. Great piles of books and furniture, some in varying stages of decay. The area near the gigantic fireplace was still the clearest, with a large bench and table set up for meals. Against the far wall under another set of windows was a row of simple beds, all unmade and crumpled from use. Yennefer led her through a gap between two towering bookcases filled with vials and other containers. Some were empty but others were filled with bright coloured liquids. Ellie had never seen Lambert’s potions but she guessed this was probably what they looked like. There were however, some familiar looking round objects on the shelf and as she passed she recognised them as the bombs he used when fighting. 

Her eyes darted over the veritable Aladdin’s cave of magical items as she was led to another open space that had been cleared in the hall. The focal point of this area was not a homely looking dining table, but rather a table of another design. The closest thing she could liken it to was something out of a Victorian mental asylum. This table was made of metal not wood and definitely didn’t look like it was for eating at. It was raised to about waist height and had an elaborate metal frame around its edge. There was what looked like a stand of some kind near the head of it, made to hold something. It was rusted with age and stained with something dark and red that Ellie didn’t really want to think about. But the worst feature of the table, the thing that sent a shiver of apprehension running down her spine, was the thick metal shackles built into the sides and base of it. She wasn’t sure what the function of this table was but it didn’t take much to imagine it was largely made to keep someone tied down as unspeakable things were done to them. 

Gathered around the horrific contraption were the rest of the witchers along with the red-haired woman they called Triss. Her and Geralt were stood closest together, he with his arms folded, a stern look on his face as Yennefer and Vesemir came to a halt either side of her. Next to them, a few feet off was Eskel. He didn’t look as hostile as Geralt, but his expression was guarded as he glanced at her. His gaze quickly flashing away as if struggling to meet her eyes. 

Finally, her attention shifted to the last person in the room. Stood a significant distance from the others, his arms crossed, his posture tense. Lambert was looking at the others gathered around the torture device. Slowly his head moved to take in the newcomers to this odd gathering, first looking at Yennefer, then Vesemir. Ellie felt all her muscles clench instinctually. Lambert looked the angriest she had ever seen him. There was a tight jaw fury in his expression that belayed his dark mood, but it was his eyes that made her want to reach out and attempt to calm him.

They were wide and wild with a bright fire that seemed to grow as he looked at the old witcher stood next to her. She could just make out, tucked against his chest, his balled fists. The knuckles on each hand bone white. The longer she looked at him the more she saw; he was shaking, ever so slightly. She stared back at him, her own horror at his reaction mirrored in his eyes. He wasn’t just angry, he was scared.

Before she could ask what was wrong Vesemir took a step forward, commanding the attention of the group. ‘Triss, is everything prepared?’ 

The red headed woman nodded solemnly. Flicking a glance at Yennefer. ‘We’re as ready as we’ll ever be, now let’s get on with this.’ 

Vesemir gave the dark-haired woman next to her a disapproving look and for a brief moment Ellie saw Geralt shake his head in exasperation. If she made it through this she would have to ask Lambert what was going on with all these beautiful women and Geralt. It seemed like an interesting tale. 

The old witcher took hold of her shackles and pulled her towards the metal table. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lambert take in a sharp breath as Vesemir directed her to lie down on it. Now that she was next to it she could smell the scent of blood and misery emanating off of it. There was a moment of hesitation, where Ellie wondered if running might be her best bet. Alone she would find things difficult, but not impossible, and faced with the prospect of being strapped to this horrendous thing the idea of making a run for it was _very_ tempting. 

‘There has to be another way.’ Lambert’s voice cut through the relative silence of the room. All eyes shifted to him. The witcher, who’s mannerism and personality she had become so accustomed to, stood changed before her. He looked wild with fear and desperation, but his voice was sharp with anger as he spoke. 

Beside her Yennefer shook her head. ‘She needs to be restrained during the process. Find me a better implement to do that and I’ll gladly change the plan. But as it stands this is the best for the purpose.’ 

Lambert’s mouth twisted into a snarl as he rounded on Vesemir. ‘I accept you need to do this, but not on _that.’_ He jabbed a finger towards the table, his eyes flashing dangerously.

‘We use it Lambert. The demon has to be contained during the ritual.’ His voice held no room for argument, and even before Lambert could offer any more protest he turned to Ellie, motioning for her to get on. Casting a pleading look back at Lambert, hoping to stop him from causing trouble, she complied. Resigning herself to whatever it was these people wanted to do. Running would be the easy way out, but when had the easy way out ever led to something better? 

Lying across the table, the first thing Ellie noticed was the cold. It was several degrees lower than the rest of the keep. It was closer to lying on a slab of ice than a piece of metal. The next thing she noticed was the overwhelming stench of death that came off it. Her previous assessment that it smelt like blood and misery were now amplified, as if the table was storing all the souls it had claimed and only now she was touching it could she sense them. 

Vesemir removed the shackles from her wrists and snapped the metal cuffs welded to the table in their place. She complied obediently, letting him move her arms and legs into position. Instantly an intense feeling of dread came over her. Her feet and hands now bound to the table, Vesemir stepped back allowing Triss and Yennefer to move up to her. The red head hovered her hands over Ellie’s prone form, her expression uneasy. 

‘This will hurt less if you don’t struggle.’ She said. Ellie looked up into her green eyes and saw no malice, only a resolute concentration. Yennefer by contrast gave her a cold smile, her violet eyes holding no trace of sympathy, only intense interest.

‘If you’re ready dear, we’ll begin.’ From her hands there was a flash of purple light and abruptly Ellie’s ears were filled with a piercing ringing. It was more intense than any of the times she had heard it before, and she reflexively tried to cover her ears but was stopped by the solid metal restraints on her wrists.

Both women began to mutter under their breath, some unknown language that sounded like gibberish to her. The purple glow grew from Yennefer’s hands until it surrounded her body, Triss moved up to the head of the table and placed both of her hands by Ellie’s temples. The ringing increased in volume until she felt like her head would explode from the pressure building inside it. Just when she thought it was about to happen, she glanced past Yennefer and caught a glimpse of Lambert. 

He was stood, still apart from his brothers, his face a mask of undiluted fear. His eyes locked onto hers. She tried to force a smile of reassurance onto her face, wanting him not to worry, but the pain in her head turned it into more of a grimace. The ringing reached a peak where she thought she could take no more, then something wet and warm spread out from the place where Triss had touched her fingertips to the side of her head. The horrific noise inside her head stopped suddenly.

She felt weightless and heavy all at the same time, a blue fog beginning to close in on her vision. She kept her gaze fixed on Lambert, so his tortured amber eyes were the last thing she saw before the fog took over. The ritual had begun. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, here's your weekly update. Things are about to get interesting for Ellie and our witchers, expect some more nuggets of information on demons and Ellie's world in the next few chapters. I really hope you all like it, she has been a long time sitting alone in my brain and this random fanfic is her first outing. Anyway, enough from me, as always read, review and enjoy! :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all. So the time has finally come to see more of Ellie's backstory. I've seen a few comments saying they can't wait to see the witcher's reactions to it, so I give you all a Summer gift. Two chapters for the price of one. I am far enough ahead to do this, but we'll be going back to one chapter a week next week. I found these next instalments super hard to write as they are mainly my own original content, so please let me know what you think. I'll leave you all nervously to read, review and hopefully...enjoy! :)

Chapter 16

It had been quite a while since Ellie had last had a dream, but she imagined they felt a lot like this. She was aware of her surroundings but felt disjointed from them, as if she were viewing everything from a distance. Outside looking in. She was floating in a void of faint blue fog. No smells or sounds to pinpoint where or what it was exactly. She tried to turn but her movements were delayed, like walking through swamp mud.

Her head still hummed from the painful ringing that had filled it right before she had blacked out. Where had she been? Strapped to a torture device in the middle of a hall full of strangers. Great going Eleanor. Top notch decision making yet again.

'I swear kid, you always rush in with no regard for where you're headed.'

The achingly familiar voice snapped her to attention. Out of the fog, shadows began to loom. She tensed momentarily, startled by the unfamiliar sensation of the shifting dreamlike way she could move. As she did, a brief flash of pain shot down her spine, and she grimaced against it. What had the red head said? Don't struggle. Relaxing her muscles, Ellie watched as the shadows became clearer. Coalescing into basic shapes, then gradually defined objects and figures.

The most recognisable of these was a tall, broad shouldered individual, wearing a long coat. His back was to her as she drifted towards him, her legs moving but not actually connecting with the ground. Even from this angle, the tousled, shoulder length hair and towering demeanour of her old mentor made her chest constrict tightly. He was standing over a much smaller figure on the ground, who was looking up at him with large, tear filled blue eyes. Her soft round face totally unmarred by any scars.

As soon as Ellie laid eyes on her younger self, she felt a sharp tug on her ethereal form and in the blink of an eye she was sat on the hard-stone floor, looking up at Solomon. She felt a crushing wave of sorrow consume her as she stared up into his age lined but handsome face. The impressive curved horns sprouting from his forehead emitting a pale blue glow as he looked back sternly. She had thought about him a lot over the years, but those had been weak reflections of the demon he had been. This, although it felt like a dream, was more real than any of the memories she had let herself indulge in. She felt her eyes prick with the threat of tears, then baulked at the odd sensation of her body moving without her control.

She stood, still only chest height to her mentor, her face tilted up to see him properly. Unable to command her own limbs, Ellie realised she was merely a spectator to the past. The memory she was witnessing playing out in front of her as she, and apparently the rest of the people gathered back in Kaer Morhen, watched passively.

'I wasn't rushing.' Her younger self said. Her voice tinged with defiance.

Solomon raised an eyebrow, his mouth which had so often smiled at her, thinning into a disapproving line. 'You rushed, so ended up on your ass. Now come at me again and take your time. Choose your moment.'

It felt bizarre and kind of unnerving to feel her body move without her saying so. Younger Ellie backed up and lowered herself into a basic fighting stance. Her legs apart, her knees bent. Her hands raised in front of her holding a training staff. Now she was further back from the imposing Shedu, she recognised the surroundings. They were in the large training room of the barracks; a circular stone construction, the curving walls covered in carvings and murals. The centre of the room consisted of a raised stone dais, it was here she found herself. Confronted by her old mentor and surrounded by a few other sparing pairs.

Solomon lowered himself into a fighting stance. Sweeping his tan duster out to the sides, momentarily exposing his torso and legs, his infamous six shooters holstered at his hip. Between his legs Ellie saw a flash of his ox like tail swishing from side to side, the only other giveaway of his lineage, along with his horns.

'Why do I even have to learn this? Can't you just teach me to shoot?' Internal Ellie cringed at her younger self's petulant tone. Solomon's eyes darkened at her request, his mouth thinning even more.

'No. You need to learn the basics. When you have proven yourself, then you'll be given your demonite weapons. Waste of time me teaching you to shoot if you don't end up with a ranged one.' He raised his hands in front of him and motioned for her to get on with it.

Ellie's grip tightened on her wooden training staff as she focused on her opponent. Last time she had come at him head on and he had knocked her down instantly. What had he said? Choose your moment. Trying to block out the other fighting trainees around her, that were doing a damn sight better by the sounds of it, and also ignoring the dull ache in her rear end where she had landed, Ellie began to circle slowly around Solomon.

His grey eyes followed her, his feet shifting to keep her in front of him. She watched his footwork, watched the small delay between him registering her new position and changing his own. She waited until she could count the duration exactly in her head, two seconds. Two seconds where his balance was off, two seconds where he was concentrating on moving his own body and not focusing completely on hers. Two seconds.

Adjusting the staff as she circled Ellie waited until she had almost done a complete rotation around her surly mentor. She watched as his feet shifted in that familiar pattern as he turned to face her and she launched herself towards him. Dodging to the side, she swept her staff underneath his feet, attempting to hook one as it repositioned taking his balance completely. Her staff connected with Solomon's foot and she felt the shift in weight as she lifted it up, but right at the point where he should have fallen backwards he planted his other foot and twisted free of her staff. Glancing round in frustration she tried to see what had happened, but her vision was abruptly blurred as he landed a painful blow to the side of her head.

Once again, she found herself on her backside staring up at her mentor. Chagrin burning across her face. 'Better, but still too slow.'

'I thought I was quick.' She muttered, glaring down at the training staff held uselessly in her hand.

'Not quick enough kid.' Solomon said, holding out a hand to help her up. Not wanting to lose what little face she had in front of the other trainees, Ellie got to her feet without his aid. Looking back now, from within her own body, she wondered why she had been so determined to appear tough. Now it seemed like a waste of the little time she'd had with him.

Solomon grunted at her stubbornness and withdrew his hand. He resumed his starting position. 'Again.' He commanded, lowering into a fighting stance once more. Before Ellie could ready herself, an approaching figure made them both turn. It was another Shedu, a young male, his curved horns significantly smaller than Solomon's. He carried himself with an arrogant swagger, his own dark furred tail tipped with jet black hair swaying in time with his steps. He arched a fine black eyebrow as he looked at the older Shedu.

'I see you're still wasting your time on this abomination.' He drawled, his handsome features twisting with disdain as he glanced at Ellie. Even viewing this as a memory, the Ellie trapped inside her younger self rankled with loathing as she looked upon the face of her constant rival and harasser, Talus. His tone was disrespectful for a trainee addressing a senior member of the ranks, but it was downright blasphemous considering he was talking to the leader of the Gatekeepers himself.

Solomon let out a low huff, stepping up to the younger Shedu. 'Watch your words boy. Or I'll waste some of my time teaching you manners.' Talus sneered at Solomon, but Ellie was satisfied to see a glint of fear in those storm grey eyes. He took a step back, putting some distance between himself and the now, very imposing Shedu.

'Oi, Talus. I didn't say you could take a break.' A copper skinned Ifirit called out to him in a heavy accent. He was stood at the other end of the training hall, a large, wicked looking scimitar in his hand. His body covered with the tattoos of the Ifirit tribe, his crimson eyes locked onto the trainee he was meant to be sparring. Ellie wasn't sure she recognised him. Talus gave Ellie an affronted look, as if it were her fault he had gotten scolded by his two seniors. He retreated back to his trainer, Solomon watching him with narrowed dark eyes. Ellie continued to stare after the younger demon, his disgusted expression and hate filled insult still ringing in her ears. As Solomon continued his lesson she found her gaze drifting to the Ifirit now tutoring Talus again. His red eyes flashed to hers and she recoiled instinctually at the hatred burning in them.

That was the first time she had felt the alienation and discrimination being the only half-human in the demon's realm would bring her. The memory still hurt and she remembered how that encounter had crystallised her determination to prove them all wrong.

The scene before her faded into blue fog. The figure of her old mentor dissolving into shadow. Looking down at herself she saw no body, only more mist. She was weightless, floating in a void once more. The remnants of the previous vision were still etched into her mind's eye, and as if she had willed it into being another room from the vault of her memory materialised around her.

This time she was standing in what looked like a dark wood, but on closer inspection was actually a tightly knit collection of tall, wooden buildings and intricate structures that resembled trees. The sky above was the perpetual light encrusted dark that defined Purgatory and the buildings and tree sculptures were a glow with faint, twinkling blue lights. This strange dreamscape of light and shadows was the Shedu settlement on the western edge of the city.

Judging by the demons gathered with her, one of which was the ever-watchful eye of her mentor off to one side, Ellie quickly realised where her memories had deposited her this time. This was her initiation trial. For each type of demon the trial was a little different, for a Shedu, which had become her adopted tribe, it was a test of ones affinity with the elements. A race to the sacred circle on the very edge of the city using whatever powers you had developed during your training. As a storm demon, a Shedu could be gifted in summoning rain, or a raging tornado, or a freezing blizzard. Some could even call down lightning, or harness the raw power of rolling thunder.

Next to her were two other trainees, a plain looking female that she struggled to recall and the tall, handsome figure of Talus. The latter was giving her a venomous look and Ellie noted how the gap between herself and the other two was comically large. Solomon took a step forward, out of the watching crowd. He eyed each of them critically, lingering on her the longest. Then, raising his hand, he held one of his six shooters aloft.

'May the wind carry and guide your path. May the rain and snow part before you, and may you find strength in the storm that lives within you.' His voice seemed to echo loudly, despite him not shouting.

All three of the hopeful trainees assumed a crouched position, as if lining up on the starting blocks. Out of the corner of her eye Ellie saw Talus' tail flicking in agitated excitement. A cold shot of adrenaline suddenly flooded through her system as the anticipation for the gun shot began to build. She tried to remember all he had taught her in his months of training. She had one shot, and if she blew it…the other demons had made it perfectly clear there was no place for her here. She _had_ to win.

A thunderous boom ricocheted off the surrounding buildings as Solomon's gun went off. The sound of it as deafening as a thunder storm directly above them. Before she could react the other two Shedu had already taken off. The unknown female racing ahead, her feet hardly touching the ground as if the wind itself were carrying her. Talus was only a little behind her and gaining, his long strides connecting with the earth with deep, thunderous booms.

Panicking slightly, Ellie tried to clear her mind. Her fingers pressing into the ground, drawing on the power Solomon had told her to. There was a brief moment where she thought nothing would happen. Then the air around her began to crackle with energy and she could feel the tingling power seeping up into her finger and through her skin from the very air. Forcing the lightning to her legs, and then further down to her feet, Ellie kept her eyes shut. Concentrating with all her will power. When it felt like her muscles would burst with the pent-up energy, she loosened her hold on the power, letting it snap through her like a taught elastic band.

There was a flash and an exhilarating burst of movement. The wind rushed passed her ears and she was unaware her limbs were even moving. Keeping her eyes shut she focused on her goal. The sacred circle. Her nose was filled with the metallic, burning smell of electricity. Her ears with the high-pitched whistling as she flew through the air. Then she felt the hard impact of ground, and the breath was knocked out of her lungs.

Gingerly she opened her eyes and above her was the towering stone monoliths that made up the most sacred place for Shedu. Gathered around her in a ring, their surfaces were lined with pulsating, blue lines. The smell of lightning faded from her senses and she became aware that she was the only one of the trainees there. There were some of the older members of the tribe watching her with appraising, if not slightly bemused expressions. A few moments passed before Talus appeared panting in the circle. His eyes flashed with deadly fire as he registered his loss. Then from out of the shadows behind him Solomon appeared, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Pushing past the outraged Talus, he moved towards her and held out a hand. Grinning up at him, the addictive power of the lightning still buzzing through her blood she took it, letting him pull her to her feet.

'So, was that quick enough?' She asked. Her eyes alight as it slowly dawned on her that she had done it. She was now a member of the Gatekeepers.

Solomon grunted, his mouth twitching at the corners as he ran a hand through her frazzled, static shocked hair. 'Not bad at all kid.'

The blue fog ate up the vision. Ellie watched as the figures faded from view. The urge to reach out and grab them, stop the progression of time, overwhelming her. However, the moment she tried to command the memory to stay, a hot lance of pain shot down her spine again. Forcing her to follow the flow and let the fog take her ever onwards. There was a brief flash of burning pain in her wrist as she glanced down and saw the brand of the Gatekeepers glowing there. Freshly burnt into her flesh. Her fate sealed to them for as long as she existed.

She let the fog carry her on until the pale blue turned into a harsh, white light. The mists clearing to reveal the clinical linoleum and fluorescent lighting of a human supermarket. The air smelt strongly of disinfectant, frozen food and blood. So much blood. Glancing around Ellie saw a vivid red trail marking the white tiled floor of the store. It disappeared around a corner where the unnerving sound of slurping and crunching could be heard. As the rest of the supermarket started to appear around her the younger Ellie walked slowly towards the sounds, following the trail of blood.

Trapped in her own body, the other Ellie felt her chest constrict in anticipation for what she was about to find around that corner. She had experienced a lot in her time as a Gatekeeper, much that would drive a normal human mad. Despite this she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in tandem with the body that was now cresting the edge of the aisle. The hairs on younger Ellie's arm stood to attention, the first sigh that another demon was nearby.

The slurping and crunching grew in volume, until it was almost obscene. The blood trail led down the main central aisle and became a puddle, and then a lake as she saw several bodies of what had once been humans, but were now mutilated and half eaten beyond recognition. They were lying on the floor and splayed across half collapsed shelves. The food that had been stored there now scattered across the floor. Slumped in the middle of the gruesome scene was a large, boar like creature. Its heaving, fleshy mass of a body shuddering as it kept its snout to the ground, gorging on something Ellie could not see. The boar was as tall as the four-tiered food shelves on either side of it even sat down. It's face a deformed mess of tusks and human looking teeth in a mouth filled with gore. Its eyes were large globes of blood red and black, glazed over with the blank stare of a dumb beast, but Ellie knew that this monstrosity hadn't always been so.

This was a Mammon. A greed demon. Usually they were small, shuffling, pig-headed denizens of Purgatory. In charge of the trade and commerce of the city. They were weak, cowardly, frail little things, only concerned with making deals. This was a Mammon, but a rabid one. A demon that had lost all intelligence and restraint. Returning to its basest nature. An undeniable monster. Ellie remembered this moment well, it was the first assignment her and Solomon had been given as partners, and it was the first time she had seen a rabid demon face to face.

The monstrous boar lifted its oversized head. Its swirling red and black eyes rolling in their sockets. In its mouth, what remained of the head and shoulders of a young woman. Her face frozen in an expression of horror in her last moments. The Mammon rotated its jaw, crunching down on its meal, sucking the corpse in a few more inches.

Bile rose in Ellie's throat, hot and acidic, as she began to back away. All her training coming to naught when confronted with the monster. Rabid demons were dangerous and unstoppable to most, and when unleashed on the human world, like this one, they left a trail of death in their wake. It was the Gatekeepers job to stop them. It was her job. The Mammon took a deliberate step towards her, then let out a guttural roar. The dead woman falling from its jaws. The lower half of her body was gone, swallowed by the beast, and Ellie felt a heady mixture of fear and revulsion as the boar began to charge.

Reaching behind her, she fumbled for her daggers, but terror had made her fingers clumsy and she felt like she was moving through treacle. The Mammon bore down on her, snorting through its snout, blood dripping from its mouth. Ellie's eyes widened in an expression of terror. Just as the beast was about to collide with her, a thunderous boom rang out. She flinched instinctually, expecting the feeling of pain to incapacitate her. Instead, the massive demon collapsed onto the blood-soaked linoleum, sliding to a stop in front of her. A perfect hole in its grotesque skull.

Whipping round Ellie watched as Solomon stepped out from between the fallen shelves into the aisle, a thin trail of smoke drifting from one of his six shooters. Readjusting his wide brimmed hat which he wore to cover his horns in the human world, he gave Ellie a reproachful look.

'Nice distracting kid. Although you probably should've moved as soon as he starting charging you.'

'I…I…you shot him.' Was all she could manage. Solomon looked at her properly then, taking in her pale face.

'Yeah, I know. The first one is always the worst. It gets easier, believe me.'

'Does it?' Ellie said, turning to look down at the corpse of the Mammon. Its frame seemed to be shrinking, the flesh dissolving off its bones as she watched. 'What happened to him?'

Solomon sighed, moving round Ellie to crouch down by the monster. His long coat dipped into the blood now congealing on the floor, staining the edge a deep crimson. He dug two fingers into the hole he had made, pushing against the rapidly shrivelling flesh. With a sucking pop he pulled his hand out, a copper coloured bullet held between his thumb and forefinger.

'No one knows for sure why demons turn rabid, some think it has to do with our ancestors, some think it's a disease. All I know, is that I feel damn sorry for all the poor soulless bastards it happens to. No one wants to become a monster.'

Ellie took in the half-eaten corpses strewn around the now deflated Mammon. Its skin resting on its skeleton like a canvas stretched across an easel. 'So, I couldn't go rabid…because I'm a human.'

Solomon looked up at her from under the brim of his hat. ' _Half_ human.' He straightened up, his expression grave. 'And everyone has the capacity to become a monster kid. Even you. If you remember anything, remember that.'

He pocketed the bullet and surveyed the scene. 'Come on. Let's clean this up before any other humans show up.'

As the fog began to consume her once more, Ellie kept her gaze fixed on the dead eyed stare of the Mammon. Solomon's bullet hole acting like a third eye in the centre of its head.

Now she was growing accustomed to the ritual, she let the current move her along. The next few memories flashed past with barely more than a glance. Ellie's first demon kill; a rabid Jinn that had started biting humans in some European city. Turning them into Vampires. The time she had saved a human, a sad eyed, handsome man who had the Seer gift. She had helped him use it to talk to the souls that couldn't move on to Purgatory. She watched with an aching heart as their relationship grew, knowing how it was destined to end.

It was only when the fog began to clear on a dark basement, that she suddenly didn't want to watch anymore. A standoff between four figures. Her and Solomon on one side, the Seer man and a wild-eyed succubus on the other. She had one hand wrapped around the man's throat, the other was holding one of Solomon's guns that she had managed to get off of him.

Ellie was stood in between the two most important people in her life; a choice to make. She had seen it happen before and had no desire to stand by again as it played out like some nightmarish pantomime. Pushing against the flow of the ritual, she tried desperately to dispel the scene in front of her. The lance of pain that had been a warning to her before now turned into a searing agony, her every nerve screaming in horror as she fought against the spell.

'No. Stop.' She said. Although no sound came out as she had no control over her own mouth. The words echoed inside her head and she had no idea if anyone heard her plea, but the fog refused to reappear and she watched in helpless pain as Solomon moved towards the succubus at a run. She couldn't stop him, she could do nothing as the hybrid sank her teeth into the man's neck and in the same instance fired the thunderous six shooter straight at her charging mentor.

Both version of her screamed out in unison as Solomon collapsed in a crumpled heap and the succubus dragged away the choking Seer. She knew the chain of events that followed, regardless Ellie still winced internally as she felt the sharp sting of pain of the succubus' extended claws raking over her left eye as she rushed to retrieve her soulmate. But far worse than seeing him vanish, her bleeding, un-healing wound obscuring her vision, was the cold terror as she returned to her felled mentor's side.

The old Shedu looked up at her with clouded grey eyes, his hat knocked off, the blue glow of his horns flickering like a candle flame in the wind. She pressed her hands into the fabric of his long coat, balling the lapels of it into her fists as she felt the first tears slide from her eyes. There was an open ugly wound on his torso, his waistcoat ruined.

'Get up Sol. Come on, we have to get him back.' She begged, but the hardy demon, the leader of the Gatekeepers and her beloved teacher merely smiled up at her, his eyes growing dimmer.

'It's okay kid. It's the way things go.' He murmured before his eyes dimmed, the life gone from within them. Ellie howled in her grief, the tears and blood mixing together to make it hard to see, but she didn't want to. She knew what happened to demons that passed, they had no souls to continue on, they simply ceased to be. Their flesh withering, their form collapsing in on itself like the Mammon they had killed together all those years ago.

The pain of resisting the ritual suddenly dulled in comparison to the knife of loss now lodged in her chest, as fresh as the moment she had lived it. The blue fog began to creep in, consuming Solomon's dead body, still clutched in his partner's hands.

'You happy now. Did you need to see that?' Ellie screamed into the void; but the void did not respond. Instead the mists shifted around her formless body revealing her stood on the steps of the Manor of Souls, the central point within the city of Purgatory. Above the endless night sky, the multi-coloured lights of millions of souls covering the inky blackness. Before her, a sea of upturned faces looking at her as Mortimer, mayor of the demons announced she was Solomon's successor, the new leader of the Gatekeepers. As the gathered crowd applauded, some less enthusiastically than others, a line of demons in the front row held up their left hands, wrists facing her, the brand of the Gatekeepers displayed in a salute. Talus was amongst them, his face twisted into a grimace of hatred as he saluted her with the rest of his comrades. She watched him as he mouthed something, too quiet to hear over the applause but unmistakable to her.

'Filthy half breed.' She turned away, her expression stony. She had heard enough to no longer react, but inside the knife in her chest pushed in deeper. Her thoughts drifted to a more recent memory and as if on command the blue fog swirled in, morphing the upturned faces of the demons into the angry, shouting faces of village peasants.

They were screaming insults and throwing things, but not at her. Next to her stood a familiar figure, his amber eyes blazing as he faced his abusers.

'Freak.'

'Mutant.'

'Witcher scum.'

Ellie felt the place where her heart was, constrict in empathy for the man. How long had she felt unwanted and pushed aside in a world that hadn't given her any options? She saw on his face the same stony expression she had worn that day on the manor steps, and so many others days like it. Even as she thought this he looked down at her, the dead look in his beautiful topaz eyes too much for her to bare. Turning on the peasants shouting at him she felt her powers flow through her, and a feral snarl ripped from her throat. She would show them who the real monster was here. The burly peasant man that had been charging towards Lambert staggered back in fright and she roared her defiance at him.

In that moment his face became the sneering face of Talus, and she let out all her anger and frustration on the man cowering before her in the dirt. A cold line swiped its way across her stomach before she felt the blood flow from her. As she collapsed in the dirt, she looked up and saw from the corner of her eye Lambert stood over her, his silver sword covered in her blood, a shocked expression on his face. The peasants around him ceased their mob like attack and instead cheered the witcher. She felt her mouth pull up in the smallest of smiles as the blackness closed in, although not before she saw the look of raw worry the witcher gave her, lying in the mud.

The fog snapped back. Closing off the strange detour. Ellie realised with a pang that Lambert would have seen all that. What must he think of her? Chagrin flooded her system, long enough to distract from where the ritual was taking her next.

She was still thinking about the village and what she had done as the mists cleared once more revealing a dark wood. The distant twinkling lights of a town peeking through the shadowy trunks. She was in a much smaller body. Her legs and arms gangly with the awkwardness of youth. Her legs bare to the night chill as her nightdress fluttered around as she ran. A small hand held firmly in her own as she dragged someone behind her. The someone let out a cry. They stumbled, a small voice reaching her over the desperate panting of her own lungs.

'Ellie, slow down. I can't keep up.' The voice was high and childlike. The tremoring tenor of a young, frightened boy.

'Not this.' The Ellie trapped within her teenage body said. Horror sweeping through her as she realised where the ritual had taken her. 'Not this.' She said, louder this time. Although the words were only in her head.

When the expected pain swept through her nerves she braced against it. Fighting through the burning sensation in her blood, the feeling of being pulled apart at the seams. She was in agony, but it was better than having to live this moment again. Anything but this.

She pulled and she pulled. The pain increasing with every attempt to break the spell. But the fog did not come. Instead, her younger self continued running, as if her life depended on it through the dark woods, a crying, pleading little boy stumbling along behind her. And in the distance, the distinctive sound of heavy footsteps, coming closer, pursuing them through the trees.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Lambert watched as the two sorceresses stood over the inert form of Blue eyes. She was still, her arms and legs strapped to the fucking abomination that was ‘Sad Albert’. Her chest was motionless, and for the first time the fact she didn’t need to breath unnerved him greatly, it made her look too much like a corpse. The only sign of life was her permanently furrowed brow, her face pulled into a grimace of discomfort, her eyelids fluttering as if she were in the middle of a particularly bad dream. 

The images of the dream, usually hidden in the most secret parts of the person’s mind, were now being projected above her for the gathered party to see. Merigold and Yennefer were focused on the girl strapped to the table, but everyone else was looking at the floating cloudlike apparition above them. It reminded Lambert of Yennefer’s megascope. That crazy contraption that allowed her to see and talk to people across the continent. The figures in the projection looked like they were underwater, their forms rippling in the air above, their voices reverberating around the main hall. 

Lambert was stood a few feet from Blue eyes and the bitchy sorceresses, his fists clenched, his posture rigid as he stared up at the flickering images, hypnotised. He had watched Blue eyes training with another demon, the horns and tail had been a surprise seeing as she possessed neither of them. He had seen, like the others, the trial and the branding. Her becoming the Gatekeeper she had told him about. Then he had watched as she had faced off against a huge, boar like monster, that had been devouring people in a strangely lit market of food. Her teacher had killed the beast with one shot from an odd explosive stick. He’d have to ask her what kind of weapon that was, and where he could get one.

What followed was a quick assortment of other encounters with different types of demons. A few of them held a marked resemblance to monsters from his own world, except they were all set against an alien backdrop of over bright lights that were every colour he could imagine, and strange, geometric stone structures that seemed to hold an endless amount of people. 

When the memory of her teacher dying appeared, Lambert’s eyes reflexively moved to Blue eyes. She was still unmoving, her body surrounded by the purple aura from Yennefer’s spell. Her face however, was now puckered and troubled. The crease he had grown so familiar with, tucked between her eyebrows. Her mouth pulled tight in a grimace. His muscles twitched at the sign of discomfort, his subconscious screaming to go to her, but he knew if he stopped the ritual right now then Vesemir would never listen to reason. Her request for help would be dismissed. 

The memory faded and Lambert could sense the atmosphere shift slightly in the main hall. Glancing over he saw Vesemir looking up at the apparition, his old brow furrowed, his amber eyes troubled. Obviously, the sight of Blue eyes howling over the dead body of her teacher hit a nerve with the old bastard. Good. He had wanted to see her truth, now he was seeing all of it. Lambert felt a stab of anger at having the girl’s deepest thoughts and feelings displayed for these strangers to view like so many portraits in a shitty gallery. 

He turned back in time to see a gathered crowd looking up at her, a kind of ceremony. They were humanoid in appearance but all had the subtle tells of being not quite human. These were demons, all of them, and this was the city she had been talking about. An old man, with whiter than white hair and a thin moustache stood next to her. He smiled, but his dark, almost black eyes didn’t change as he addressed the gathered demons. Above was a star filled sky, around them were abodes of differing designs. Some looked like the strange settlements in her previous memories, some buildings looked like they could belong in Novigrad or Oxenfurt. It was a hodgepodge of sizes, styles and materials, but the buildings only held his attention for so long before the various expressions of the up turned faces caught his eye.

A large proportion of them were indifferent, staring blankly up at whatever formality was happening in front of them. Some of the ones in the front looked respectful, one or two even happy, but those were not the ones to draw Lambert’s attention. In amongst the indifference were expressions he knew very well. They were ones of disdain, disgust, outrage, suspicion, prejudice. They were the expressions he saw whenever he entered a new village or town. They were the expressions he saw when he came to collect payment from some poor, inbred farmer or ealdormen. They were the expressions he saw when he wanted a moment of companionship or peace in the local tavern or brothel. That was until he paid them, money could cure all ill thoughts it seemed. 

One particular face stood out. Near the front, it was the horned demon that had insulted Blue eyes at the start, the same one that had hated her victory over him in the trial. He glared up at the girl with hate filled eyes, her focus fixed on him too making it hard for any of them to miss what he did next. The memory was a true reflection of what Blue eyes and seen and heard when it was made, so no sound came from his moving lips as he spoke. But the gathered witchers were keen eyed enough to understand what he had said to her, in that moment of applause amongst the gathered crowd.

‘Filthy half breed.’

Lambert felt the insult as if it had been him receiving it, and then all of a sudden it _was_ him, as the memory shifted and she stood in a recognisable village in front of a shouting crowd of peasants.

‘Freak.’

‘Mutant.’

‘Witcher scum.’

The shift was jarring, and it took Lambert a moment to understand what he was looking at. This memory was clear, the ripples calmed so it resembled a looking glass rather than a pool, and in that looking glass he saw his own reflection staring out at the rioting village folk. Except this wasn’t a perfect reflection, this was how Blue eyes saw him. He felt his neck flush with heat as he gazed upon his too strong jaw, his shoulders broader somehow, his eyes a burning amber. His stance was defiant and proud, but not the jealous pride he so often exuded. This was a man who did not know his greatness. Stones and clods of earth bounced off of this stranger, his face set in a stony mask of indifference. 

It was bizarre watching a memory he shared play out in front of his brother wolves. Now _he_ felt exposed in front of them, as Blue eyes turned her attention to the advancing lout, what had been his name? Rika, that was it. He heard the terrifying roar coming from Blue eyes and Rika falling back in fear. An ominous feeling came over Lambert as he snatched a sideways look at the witchers stood next to him. The furrow on Vesemir’s brow had deepened, Eskel was looking up with wide eyes, and Geralt….Geralt was looking straight at Lambert with a granite hard expression.

Lambert turned away quickly, not wanting his brother to know he was worried. He was just in time to see Blue eyes fall to the floor, his sword held above her, covered in dark, dark blood. He heard the peasants’ screams morph into cheers but was unable to see any of his surroundings anymore as the girl’s dying vision zeroed in on him and his worried expression. 

As the memory faded Lambert felt six pairs of eyes swivel to him. The heat around his neck intensified but he wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of seeing his embarrassed face. That last memory had revealed more about him than it had about Blue eyes’ intentions. What it had also done was highlight their shared experiences. Whomever or whatever she really was, it appeared she had faced her fair share of hatred and isolation in her time. A pang of guilt and hurt speared through his already strained chest, and Lambert found himself watching the still form of the girl he had brought there rather than her memories. 

It was for this reason that he saw the dramatic change in the previously still girl on the table. She went from being relatively relaxed, if not a little troubled, to rigid as a plank of timber. Her hands which were strapped to ‘Sad Albert’ tensed into tight fists, and her lips pulled back in a snarl of pain. 

‘Hey, what the shit are you two-‘ Lambert began, and then he heard the desperate crying of a young child. The scene floating above them now was hard to make out at first. Largely because it was so dark and Blue eyes was obviously struggling to see. Lambert noted that in previous memories when training or hunting rogue demons it had been equally dark, but the details had been clearer. It was almost as if she couldn’t see as well in this particular memory. 

As her eyes adjusted they could make out the trunks of trees and dense undergrowth. Her legs were bare and shone pale in the dim moonlight, they were scrawny and oversized. The legs of a child. The crying grew in volume and lambert wondered with a sickening feeling if it was Blue eyes. Then a young boy’s voice cried out between heaving sobs. 

‘Ellie, slow down. I can’t keep up.’ She glanced back at the boy, his face hovering down by her hip. A round pale moon of its own, tear stained cheeks framed by a shock of curly dark hair. He stumbled behind her, his feet catching on roots and brambles. 

‘Not this.’ 

Lambert’s eyes snapped back down to the older girl in front of him. Her face was still frozen in its mask of pain, but it had been this version of her that had spoken. He was sure of it. It had come out in a growl of defiance, laced with an immense strain almost as if she were fighting someone. The two sorceresses were staring at her face too, Merigold’s muddled in confusion. 

‘What’s happening?’ It wasn’t Lambert who had asked. Vesemir took a step forward, his eyes trained on the them. 

‘She’s resisting. She’s trying to stop us from seeing this.’ Merigold’s own voice was as strained as Blue eyes’ had been. Lambert felt a warm feeling of satisfaction that she was at least giving them a hard time. He had hated the thought that all the fight had been sucked out of her in that grim shit pit Vesemir liked to call a prison.

‘What is she trying to hide?’ The old witcher murmured.

‘This is an old memory. One she’s kept buried deep. Her subconscious defences are particularly strong here.’ Yennefer replied in her usual cool tone. Unflustered by anything, above everyone, it made Lambert’s blood boil.

‘Then continue.’ Vesemir said with a grim nod, stepping back. Lambert glanced sharply at him.

‘But she’s in pain. Look at her face.’ The old witcher gave him a measured look, his eyes devoid of emotion. 

‘If you what you claim is true, then no physical harm will have a lasting effect. She can’t be killed, correct?’ In that moment Lambert wanted nothing more than slam his fist into the old man’s stoic face. He felt his hands shaking as they remained balled at his sides. Both Eskel and Geralt turned away from the apparition to give him wary looks, but even with his hot-headed temper he knew better than to cause a scene. Any disturbance in the ritual might hurt Blue eyes, despite Vesemir’s blasé attitude towards her abilities. 

The child let out a harsh cry and everyone’s attention switched back to the floating cloud of memories. They were still running; the trees had thinned and Blue eyes was now streaking across a moonlit meadow, the tall grass and flowers swaying in the breeze. The peaceful surroundings completely at odds with the desperate sounds of the children running from gods knew what. 

As if answering Lambert’s unsaid question, she glanced behind her and appearing from the darkness, as if they were made of shadows came a group of men. There was four of them, all sprinting after the two children, their faces obscured and nightmarish. The boy Blue eyes was dragging behind her stumbled and fell, his small body disappearing momentarily in the tall grass. She stopped and shoved her hands into the meadow grass, lifting the boy out by his arms and hoisting him onto her hip. She began to run again, although drastically slower, and Lambert felt his gut constrict in fear. 

Now he was in the brighter moonlight they could see the boy was in a strangely patterned tunic. His curly hair sleep tousled, his wide eyes filled with terror and a familiar shade of blue. It didn’t take much to summarise he was related to Blue eyes, and Lambert made a good guess that he was her brother. He was looking over her shoulder as she carried on across the meadow, his gaze fixed on their pursuers. 

What were a group of men doing chasing these kids through a wood at night? Somehow Lambert thought he knew the answer, he also suspected why Blue eyes didn’t want them to see this. 

She hadn’t uttered another word since her initial protest. Now she was still again, although her muscles were tensed against the restraints, her face still fixed in a pain grimace. He watched as Merigold leaned closer to her forehead, sweat dripping off her face in exertion. The children ran on, until they reached the other side of the meadow, plunging back into the tree line, darkness swallowing their poorly dressed forms once more. 

‘Are Mum and Dad going to be okay?’ The little boy wailed. Blue eyes hushed him, but he took one podgy hand and pulled on her wayward hair. ‘I want to go home. Take me home.’

‘We can’t…go home Jamie. Home…is gone. We need…to run now.’ Her words came in bursts, as the effects of running bare foot through the countryside with a small weight attached to her, began to take its toll. Lambert felt helpless watching the children frantically try and escape whatever horror they had left behind. Their parents likely dead judging by Blue eyes’ comments, and the men who appeared anything but friendly catching up. There was no more talking as she pushed her way through the dense undergrowth, Blue eyes focusing all her energy into getting away, but it was no use. 

They caught up as the children reached a large fallen tree, its trunk covered in broken branches. Blue eyes attempted to jump it, but failed. Winding herself as she slammed into the tree, and sending the boy sprawling into the dirt. Before she could collect herself, a dark shadow fell over her, and a large hand pulled her back off the trunk. She fell back into the dirt, giving them all a distorted view of their pursuers. 

It was still hard to see with the darkness and her poor eyesight, but Lambert could just make out a towering, broad shouldered figure. A dark sweep of beard across his chin, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight as he grinned down at his quarry. ‘Gotcha you little bitch. Trying to run from us were you?’

His accent was unrecognisable to Lambert, his clothes the same tailored cloth as Blue eyes’ short trousers. In the background he could hear the boy screeching as one of the other men grabbed him. Blue eyes tried to shoot to her feet, rushing to her sibling’s aid. 

‘Oh no you don’t missy.’ The man that had grabbed her said. He swung one meaty hand and landed a hard slap to the side of the girl’s face. Lambert winced. He had seen men like this on the Path many times. They had even come across some of them on their journey here. They were scum; picking on the weak and taking pleasure in it. If it was his world he would have Axiied the lot of them, and made them slit their throats. 

The shadow of a man stared down at her for a moment, his gleaming smile widening. Then he leapt at her, pressing his body on top of hers, pressing her further into the dirt. Blue eyes cried out in fear, and Lambert felt his nails begin to cut into the flesh of his palm. Roiling, hot bile filled his mouth as the man laughed, scrabbling to pin the girl’s hands down as she kicked and struggled beneath him. Off to one side the boy’s screeching grew in volume and Blue eyes turned her head away from her assailant just enough to see the fate of her brother. Two men were attempting to hold him still, but the little tyke was giving a good fight. One of them cursed and slapped the other away.

‘Enough. Just kill the little shit.’ He growled, gripping the young boy by the throat. His screeching cut off abruptly and that was when Blue eyes really started to scream. 

At first. Lambert thought it was just the vision letting out the piercing, harpy like sound, then he looked down and saw the demon girl’s mouth was open, her back arched as she screamed out her fury and defiance in the main hall of the keep. 

‘Stop this Vesemir.’ He half spat, half pleaded to the witcher beside him. ‘We’ve seen enough.’ 

But Vesemir didn’t acknowledge Lambert, he was fixated on the apparition. His old brow furrowed even more deeply. Lambert cursed as he turned back to the nightmare unfolding in front of them all. Her brother was in silhouette. His small shadow being held aloft by a much bigger, stronger shadow. His little legs kicking in a futile effort to escape his grim fate. _Cowards. Scum_. Lambert thought, the blood he had drawn dripping from his fists. 

Blue eyes continued to scream even when her brother’s legs had stopped moving and the man that had strangled him to death had dumped him in the dirt next to her.

‘Shut her up will you. We’ll be crawling with cops if she keeps going on like that.’ His killer said.

The man on top of her gave her another hard slap to the face, but apart from a brief pause it did little to stop the out pouring of horror from the girl. ‘Shut the fuck up!’ The man shouted. 

‘Just end it. We’re finished here.’ The child killer said. The man on top of Blue eyes let out a snarl of frustration. Then he grabbed her by the shoulders and half lifted, half dragged her across the floor of the woods before shoving her back down with all his weight. 

There was a sickening, wet sound. A harsh thud and the unmistakable noise of flesh tearing. Blue eyes stopped screaming then, and her gaze flickered down to her chest where there was now a dark, jagged spike sticking out through her thin nightdress. A similarly dark pool began to spread from the area and it took Lambert a moment to connect the dots. The bastard had impaled this child on a broken branch sticking out from the fallen tree. It had lodged itself straight though her heart. Knowing all he did about killing - monsters and men – he knew this would be a slow and painful death. The worst kind.

Satisfied his job was done the grinning man turned away with his cohorts, disappearing into the shadows of the woods. Leaving one dead little boy and one dying young girl behind. 

_So, this was how it happened? With as much of a choice and free will as he’d been given._ Lambert had never felt a rage like it. He prided himself on being the man that could deal the same level of torture and punishment to those that inflicted it. Now all he could do was watch…and wait.

He wasn’t sure when the Blue eyes in the main hall with them had stopped screaming, but suddenly the silence pressed in on him. With only the soft, choking sounds of the dying girl to break it. Four witchers and two sorceresses were frozen in the fading light of the main hall. Lambert’s muscles were stiff from being stood for so long, the ritual had taken all day, but still he stood like the others, watching and waiting.

He wasn’t sure how long it was from the time the men had left her, but it was around the point when her dying breaths had become barely audible that the atmosphere in the woods shifted. Before the trees and plants had been blended into an indistinguishable mess of blacks and dark greys. Now the whole wood seemed to lighten, until the trees stood out distinct in the dark, the undergrowth surrounding them shining with night time dew. It reminded Lambert of what the world looked like when he drank a dose of Cat. Blue eyes let out a sad sigh, resigned to her fate. Then a warm voice drifted out of the quiet woods, straight into her ear.

‘Such a sad state of affairs. I do hate to see such waste.’ A pale, glowing hand appeared on her shoulder, then a face materialised above her. The girl, near to death, turned her head languidly towards the stranger. Stranger to her, yet Lambert recognised the face as the same well kept, elderly man that had been stood with Blue eyes in front of that crowd of demons. He smiled now. A benevolent, comforting smile. He had a friendly wrinkle lined face, and the snow white hair that looked almost translucent. The thin moustache turned up as he beamed at her.

‘I know it hurts Eleanor, but life is like that.’

‘Who…are…you?’ Her voice was barely more than a breath, but the man heard her clearly.

‘That doesn’t matter. I am the one who helps the souls wrenched violently from their hosts. The young ones with so much more to give.’ His voice was like heated honey. Slipping around them, warming them even through the filter of a memory. Lambert felt a shiver as he looked at that face. There was a power in those dark, nearly black eyes. A seductiveness to his voice that promised the world. There were no horns on his head, no marks on his face but _this_ was what he had imagined a demon would look like. 

‘What…do…you…want?’ 

‘I want _you_ Eleanor Blackwood. I want you to join me and live on. Become something greater. Tell me, do you wish to die?’ There was a long pause.

‘No.’ His smile widened.

‘Good. But wanting to live, unfortunately, is not enough?’ His smile fell. The sudden hunger in his eyes making Lambert’s hand twitch towards his swords. ‘What is it you want to live for my dear?’

Another pause, this time longer. Then, so quiet it could have been mistaken for the breeze through the leaves. ‘Revenge.’

‘And so, you shall have it, but everything comes at a price.’ The man said, his eyes becoming flat black. Exactly like the eyes of a certain demon girl when she was at her most powerful. ‘I hope you survive this, none have so far. But, I get the feeling you will be my greatest achievement…young Ellie.’

The man lifted his hand from her shoulder and held it just above her chest. Right over the branch still stuck through her. From that point a brilliant white light began to shine. So dazzling it made it hard for Lambert to look directly at it. The man’s fingers closed slightly, forming a claw over the light and slowly, ever so slowly, he began to drag the light up towards the girl’s mouth.

This time the scream that came from both the girls spoke of an indescribable pain. It sounded like her innards were being pulled out through her nose with a rusty hook. Lambert had heard this type of scream echoing off these walls before. As if to reinforce the memory, the real Blue eyes suddenly jolted. Her spine arching off the table, her arms straining against the metal bonds around her wrists. He saw the table groan under the strain, the metal creaking as she pulled against it. Above her, the blinding light flickered and pulsed, beating like a heart. The old man’s face twisted into a grimace as whatever he was doing took its own toll on him. The closer the light got to the girl’s face, the louder she screamed. 

As an instinctual reaction Lambert moved his hands over his ears, stopping the horrendous sound from damaging his over sensitive hearing. He half turned to look at the witchers stood beside him and saw Eskel and Geralt copying him. Vesemir was the only one of them with his hands lax by his side, his face was set in a blank mask. To an outside observer he would appear calm and unaffected by the girl’s torturous cries, however Lambert knew him better. The old witcher’s usually ruddy cheeks were alabaster white, paler even than the White wolf’s abnormally bleached skin. His amber eyes were locked on the apparition, a deep pain evident in them as he watched the events playing out.

‘Stop them Vesemir!’ Lambert heard himself shouting over the noise. The scream coming from Blue eyes was harrowing. This was the first time he had ever heard her make this noise, but it was exactly the same as the one in his nightmare. The old witcher still did not react. The other three were all staring at their leader expectantly. Even Geralt, who had been against the girl from the start was looking at his mentor imploringly, but Vesemir said nothing. 

‘Fuck it all! Stop this now!’ Lambert tried again. Merigold and Yennefer were still deep in concentration, but both had concerned expressions as their subject thrashed and fought against her restraints. ‘Sad Albert’ let out another groan as the muscles in the girl’s arms tensed. Lambert even swore he saw the metal give. 

Above them all, the light had grown in strength. Reaching a peak just as the sound of screaming did. The old man performing the torturous ritual on Blue eyes pulled his hand back abruptly and the light condensed and exited the dying girl’s body through her open, screaming mouth. It hovered a few inches below the man’s hand, which was held like a claw, holding the glowing, firefly like ball. Lambert had never seen anything like it, and he had very little context for what was actually playing out in front of him. However, the ball of light gave of a familiar warmth, the gently pulsing rhythm emitting an air of calm serenity at odds with the violent scenes seconds before. He wasn’t sure how he knew but, in that moment studying the strange orb, he knew he was looking at the detached soul of Blue eyes.

‘Well done girl. You’re still breathing.’ The old man said. His previously composed demeanour ruffled. ‘Now to finish the transition.’ He made a sweeping motion with his hand and her soul blinked out of existence, vanishing into nothing. Suddenly, the woods were plunged into an intense darkness, and Lambert felt his gut twist as the old man took out a vial of dark burgundy liquid. Without hesitation he unstopped the vial and poured its entire contents into Blue eyes’ gasping mouth. She made a choking gurgling noise as the liquid blocked her airways, then her whole body began convulsing. 

The old man laid his arm across her chest, pinning her down and stopping the worst of the movement. However, the real Blue eyes didn’t have quite the same resistance and there was a loud, jarring screech as both of the metal restraints around her wrists were wrenched away from the table, freeing her arms in a whirl of motion.

Lambert was next to her in a heartbeat, half shoving Yennefer out of the way earning him a venomous glare, but he didn’t give a shit. He recaptured her arms, holding her wrists in a tight grip, but even with all his strength he struggled to calm her violent spasms.

‘Gods damn it all! Fucking stop this shit show before she hurts herself…or someone else!’ He felt Yennefer’s eyes on him as he fought against Blue eyes. The purple glow was still surrounding her body and he could feel his flesh prickling where his hands were gripping her, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was stopping this torture. He had been too young and scared to step in as his friends were ripped apart during the Trial of the Grasses, their own screams haunting him whenever he returned here. At least now he could do something, anything.

‘Step back you idiot. You’ll do more harm than good stood there.’ Lambert shot Yennefer a look, his lip curling in disgust.

‘Fuck you. You’re doing the most harm by letting this carry on.’

‘I can’t just break the ritual off without Triss’ consent. The result would likely kill them both… _permanently_ in the case of Triss.’ Lambert narrowed his eyes at the sorceress, but didn’t push it any further. He knew Yen well enough to know a direct argument would get him nowhere. 

Blue eyes thrashed against his hold and his attention was momentarily drawn to her. Unable to free herself from his grasp she slammed her hands down on the edge of the table, her fingers gripping the metal so hard he could hear it bending. Above them, her younger self was also fighting against her captor. The old man’s teeth were bared from the effort, but his eyes were focused on the girl trapped, writhing beneath him and glimmered with an excitement that made Lambert’s skin crawl.

The screeching of tortured metal now started to increase in volume. Looking down Lambert saw the edge of the table begin to twist up as Blue eyes pulled against it. He could see small rivulets of blood seeping through her fingers, the jagged metal cutting through her skin. He tried prying her hands free, but the force of her grasp was beyond anything he had encounter previously. A low curse broke from him as he was forced to use his body weight to hold her down, another spasm making her arch off the table. The sound of screams now making his head ring. 

Triss wasn’t paying attention to any of this. She was still touching the side of the girl’s head, her forehead dripping with sweat under the strain. She looked pale and distressed, but deep in concentration. ‘Merigold! Hey, Merigold!’ Lambert shouted.

The sorceresses blinked her green eyes lethargically and looked up at him. ‘Stop! We’ve seen enough!’ 

She stared at him in a daze and he felt the anger flare inside of him. He was just about to reach across the table and grab her by the throat when another voice shouted over the cacophony of screams and breaking metal. 

‘Stop this! Enough!’

Lambert was sure he’d never been so glad to hear the old bastard’s voice. Merigold turned her head towards Vesemir, and then back to Yennefer. ‘Do it slowly Triss.’ The other sorceress said. Nodding slowly, Merigold took a breath then gradually withdrew her hands. A small shining thread of light connected her middle finger to the temple of Blue eyes. The thread shimmered and then snapped as the sorceress took a step away before collapsing. 

Instantly Yennefer released the apparition, the cloud hovering above them dissipating. Lambert looked up just in time to see the old man holding an unconscious Blue eyes, her nightdress stained with a bright crimson blood, her mouth covered in a much darker substance. The purple glow surrounding the real Blue eyes disappeared and the body beneath his hands stilled. The muscles relaxing, her hands loosening their hold on the table.

There was a brief moment where the cold fingers of fear began to close around Lambert’s heart as the girl’s eyes remained closed. Then, with a stuttering gasp she lurched awake, her face becoming panicked when she met with his resistance. Relief flooded through him as he looked down into her startling blue eyes, not a trace of darkness in them. 

‘Lambert?’ She croaked, her voice hoarse from the screaming. 

‘Hey there Blue eyes.’ He murmured back. Lifting his weight off of her so she could sit up slightly, he took her chin carefully in his hand, turning her head so he could examine her. It was a pointless endeavour considering any physical wounds would have already healed by now, but he couldn’t help himself going through the comforting process of checking her for injuries. 

‘Give her some space man. Girl can’t breathe with you on top of her.’ Lambert tensed briefly at Eskel’s annoying tone, but then the realisation of how close he actually was and his dramatic attempts to come to her aid just moments before hit him. With an awkward cough he let go of her face and took a step back. Fortuitous that he did, for as soon as he had cleared her personal space Blue eyes leant over the side of ‘Sad Albert’ and hacked up an impressive amount of the same burgundy liquid they had all just watched her drink.

‘Well, that was certainly…enlightening.’ Yennefer said, gingerly stepping back from the wet puddle now spreading by her fancy black boots. The words were flippant but Lambert was surprised to see the usually unflappable sorceress eyeing Blue eyes with a wary respect. Similarly, taking a glance around the room he could see the mood had shifted from mistrust and apathy, to quiet shock and awe. 

Vesemir was the next to speak, and the drastic shift in his demeanour nearly floored Lambert. ‘Come down off there child, it can’t be comfortable.’ 

He stared at the older witcher with wide disbelieving eyes, but Vesemir didn’t return the look. He heard the sound of Blue eyes clambering down off the table, the high groaning creak of metal making him glance at her. She was unsteady on her feet, but he could tell from her determined expression that attempting to help her would only resort in refusal. She was a stubborn little thing. 

As Blue eyes staggered toward them, the twisted remains of ‘Sad Albert’ were revealed. The table, which had survived hundreds of years of trials, had not it seemed survived a half demon. The sides were warped and bent from where Blue eyes had been gripping and pulling in the last moments of the ritual. The metal restraints, he now realised, had been torn off both by her arms and legs straining against them; the cuffs still attached to her wrists and ankles as she moved away. There was a large dent in the centre of the table, and three of the four legs had buckled. 

Eskel let out a low whistle from somewhere behind him. ‘Never thought ‘Sad Albert’ would go out like that. Rather fitting if you ask me.’ As annoying as Eskel was most of the time, he had to agree with his brother on this. After his shared history with the horrendous piece of witcher memorabilia, Lambert couldn’t say he was sad to see its demise.

‘Well, it served its purpose at least.’ Vesemir grumbled. The girl that had defeated ‘Sad Albert’ stood shakily in the centre of their group. Lambert could see her knees shaking and was reminded of when they had first met. The difference this time was that he was concerned rather than highlighting it as a weakness. 

‘Am I still under suspicion?’ She asked, her voice still rasping from the strain. Vesemir’s gaze flicked to Merigold who was leaning heavily on the ruined table, her red hair in disarray. She glanced over to him and shook her head. 

‘No. It appears we are satisfied with what we saw.’ He took a step towards her, his voice growing softer. ‘We would like to offer you an apology child. You’ve lived a hard life and had to relive some of the more painful moments of it.’

‘ _We_?’ Lambert scoffed. Vesemir shot him a warning look, then continued as if the other witcher hadn’t even spoke.

‘ _We_ will do our best to aid you and find out why you are here. I’m sure Yen and Triss can also assist in finding a way for you to get back home.’ Blue eyes gave him a weak smile. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.

‘Assuming I have nothing better to do Vesemir? How inconsiderate of you.’ Yennefer said. 

‘I only offered your services, it’s up to you if you accept or not.’ He retorted, eyeing her reproachfully. The dark-haired sorceress shrugged, her violet eyes fixed on the demon girl. 

‘Luckily for you, I was at a loose end when you called, and this…girl is rather intriguing. I’d like to find out more about her.’ Lambert narrowed his eyes at her. He had known Yennefer for half his lifetime and he still didn’t trust her. She always had an ulterior motive, or hidden agenda, like most magic users. It was a mystery what Geralt saw in her, or any of them in his mind. 

_Don’t be so quick to judge now._ His subconscious prodded, nudging his attention back to the strange, wobbly looking girl stood in the main hall. 

‘Thank you. I am grateful. Now if you wouldn’t mind, I need to lie down somewhere less…public.’ Blue eyes said, wearily attempting to walk back the way she had come. 

‘Where are you going El?’ Eskel asked, blocking her way and holding out his hands in case she collapsed into him.

‘Back downstairs.’ She answered. Eskel looked up at Vesemir, his expression incredulous. The old witcher shook his head.

‘No need for you to return to the cells. You have proven yourself…for now.’ He looked at Eskel. ‘She can stay in one of the dorm rooms upstairs. Show her the way.’ Eskel looked relieved and in that moment Lambert really wanted to punch him. In fact, he really wanted to punch a lot of things. Watching the girl he had brought here be put through that torture had made him feel an anger he hadn’t felt in a long time. He could still feel it pulsating in his gut, urging him to move, to break things. A heavy round in the training yard might go some way to relieve him, and as he watched Eskel escort Blue eyes towards the stairs that was where he directed his feet. Without a backward glance to the others or that accursed table. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you all enjoyed that. I'll see you next week. :)


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

All her muscles ached. They ached like she’d gone several rounds with a rabid Mammon. She lay on the bed, unsleeping, letting her muscles and mind recover from the ordeal of the ritual. She could still taste the bitter demon blood in her mouth, even though it had just been a memory and not actually happening. It had felt so real. Like she was reliving it all over again. On top of her stiff and sore limbs there was a residual ringing in her ears from the magic they had used on her. It pulsed in the back of her mind like an alarm. 

She let out a low groan as she turned herself on the bed so she was lying face down, the soft furs smothering her face, shutting out the grey dusk light. She was grateful her ordeal had bought her a better room in the keep at least, but even without sleep her thoughts were plagued with nightmares. It had been an eternity since she had last let herself think about the details of her creation, and now the flood gates had been opened.

Pressing her hands to either side of her head she tried to stop the ringing and block out the flashes of the dying faces of her brother, Solomon and everyone else she had loved. She wasn’t sure when exactly she had started to think of it as a curse, but the hollowness of knowing she could never get close to someone without them being marked for death was a constant reminder of it. As she sifted through the catalogue of people she had lost because of it, Lambert’s concerned eyes swam into focus. 

His has been the first face she had seen after waking up from that nightmare. The weight of his body grounding her to reality. His glorious amber eyes burning into her as her own opened. It was night and day from the first time she had woken up to his arrogant, indifference after he had killed her. She could see the tell-tale signs of attachment every time he let his apathetic mask slip, revealing his true feelings beneath. 

_Too dangerous, getting too close,_ she thought. A pang of lonely longing lanced through her, making her wince into the furs. She tried to push him out of her thoughts. Better she not think about him, than for him to join the list of deaths she was extensively racking up. 

She continued to lie there, unmoving, as the pain leached from her muscles and the ringing died down. She also made efforts to rebuild the wall that kept her numerous ghosts at bay. Shoring up the defences that those two women had so artfully torn down. It was because of this that she didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until they were right outside the door. Moving with her renewed speed, she was still able to sit herself up against the wall the bed was pushed against, her eyes locked on the rough oak door as it opened slowly. 

A strong blast of lilac and berried hit her nose, accompanied by a dark-haired head. ‘You are awake I presume. Lambert said you didn’t sleep.’ The sorceress called Yennefer said as she entered. She walked in confidently, as if Ellie had summoned her instead of arriving unannounced. Another, more cautious, figure entered after her. This time the vibrant red headed sorceress she had heard referred to as Triss, or Merigold by Lambert. The second women closed the door again behind her. 

‘I don’t.’ Ellie said, her voice wary as she surveyed her unexpected visitors. Yennefer was holding a folded bundle of what looked like leather, which she threw unceremoniously at the foot of the bed.

‘Found these for you. Lambert kept clucking about you freezing solid before we’d have a chance to scry you, so figured you could use the extra coverage now you’re staying.’ Ellie glanced at the item she had thrown. A pair of soft brown leather trousers were discarded there. ‘Thanks.’ She offered up lamely, unsure what to make of the gesture.

‘Don’t mention it. They belonged to a girl who used to live here. Don’t think she’d mind you borrowing them, you seem to be a similar size.’ Yennefer elegantly sat down next to the trousers at the foot of the bed. Ellie drew her legs up to her chest instinctually. Eyeing the violet eyed woman like she was a particularly vicious cobra. 

‘Are those Ciri’s?’ Triss asked, her green eyes narrowed at the other woman.

‘Yes. But she isn’t using them right now is she.’ Yennefer didn’t look away from Ellie as she answered her…friend? Honestly, it was hard for her to read the relationship between the two of them. There was a familiarity there similar to sisters, but an awkward tension that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She suspected heavily it had something to do with Geralt. Triss didn’t argue, instead moving further into the room, staying near the rough stone walls, her gaze also locked on Ellie.

‘So, my dear. I hope you don’t bear any ill will towards me and Triss here? We were only ensuring our witcher friends’ safety after all.’ Yennefer gave her a dazzling smile, her odd coloured eyes calculating. 

‘I don’t…no.’ She said, casting her gaze between the two sorceresses. Triss let out a small sigh.

‘I didn’t mean to cause you so much pain. I apologise, but…forgive me…demons are notoriously duplicitous. We needed assurances that you weren’t plotting to harm any of us.’

Ellie tilted her head. ‘What made you change your mind?’ 

‘Unlike everyone else, I can feel your emotions and intent during the scrying ritual. It’s one of the reasons it’s so effective, nothing can be hidden once seen. When you thought of Lambert, I felt only concern and a deep affection for him.’ Ellie felt her face flush. Yennefer raised an eyebrow at the reaction. ‘I also saw your claim of being a human true, as did the others.’ She paused at this, giving Ellie a pitying look. ‘The pain you felt, it was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.’

‘I imagine having one’s soul ripped from their body would be extremely painful.’ Yennefer said. 

‘Yeah, it sucked pretty fucking hard.’ Ellie responded. The two sorceresses looked surprised for a moment, then Yennefer let out a laugh and even Triss smiled despite herself. 

‘I can definitely see why he likes you.’ Yennefer said, and Ellie’s cheeks heated up another few degrees. _Too dangerous, remember._ Her mind chastised her. 

Triss took a step towards the bed, her guarded expression softening slightly. ‘You said you didn’t come here by choice, that something brought you here?’

Ellie nodded, ‘Yes, I fell through a door I didn’t create and ever since then I’ve not been able to make one to return. At first, I thought it was due to me being weakened, then as time went on and I recovered nothing changed. It’s like something is blocking me.’ 

‘ _Intriguing_.’ Yennefer said, running a manicured forefinger along her jaw in thought. ‘We can certainly look into this. Of course, you’ll have to talk us through how _you_ make a door or gateway for us to have a chance of finding anything.’ Ellie could hear the double meaning behind her words; she was fishing for information for her own gains. She smiled at the dark-haired sorceress, a friendly, trusting smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

‘I can do that, sure.’ Yennefer studied her for a second. She had no doubt the women could tell she was being equally guarded as them, however she wasn’t concerned. She had dealt with enough Jinn and slippery Mammon traders in her time to handle a witch. 

‘Excellent.’ Yennefer finally said, standing up in one graceful movement. The intricate lace on her flowing skirts dancing around her ankles as she moved. ‘We’ll leave you to rest my dear. If you need us you’ll find me in the tower and Triss in her laboratory usually. I look forward to working together, the experience should be…educational.’ 

With that she swept out of Ellie’s room in a flurry of black and white fabric. Triss hung back for a moment, her green eyes flitting over the girl on the bed. Whereas Yennefer exuded a confidence and slyness, Triss seemed like an honest soul. Ellie could practically see the blazing white light emanating from her.

‘You know…I really am sorry. These people mean a lot to me…even Lambert. Please don’t make me regret my decision.’ Ellie looked at her for a moment. There was no double meaning behind these words. There was a genuine worry for her friends.

‘Of course. You have my word.’ This time when she smiled her eyes crinkled in warmth and reassurance. The sorceress nodded, her shoulders relaxing slightly. Then with hurried footsteps she left Ellie alone once more.

* * *

It was nearing midnight by the time Ellie finally decided to leave her room. She had listened to the sounds of the keep from her new location as the night crept in. It had been morning when she had been brought up from the cells. The ritual had taken all of the day, but it had only felt like hours in her memories. 

She’d heard the sounds of people talking downstairs in the main hall. Their voices echoing off the empty walls, the sound of cups and plates as they ate. She could smell the enticing scent of cooked meat and bread, and not for the first time she missed the feeling of being hungry, and the anticipation of a good meal. She could still _eat_ , she just had no need to, so the pleasure of filling her stomach had been taken away from the process. 

Outside the wind had died down, no longer howling round the exposed walls of the keep. With its absence, she could now hear the cries of animals and monsters out in the sea of pines. A lot of them she recognised; the howling of a wolf pack, the screeching of an owl, but others were unfamiliar and these she listened to, fascinated. The high-pitched screeching roars somewhere in the valley made her think of the griffin, but there was a hissing quality to it, almost like a reptile. Occasionally she’d hear what sounded like moaning, the haunted cries one would usually associate with ghosts, but it could have just as easily been the wind.

Once all the sounds of life had died down within the keep, she decided to venture out and take in her new surroundings. Pulling on the pair of leather trousers Yennefer had given her, Ellie left her tattered shorts on the bed and made for the door. The leather was soft and worn, and she was reminded that these had belonged to someone who used to live here. Ciri, wasn’t that what Triss had said? The feeling of the clothes covering her legs felt odd and unnatural. She wasn’t sure the last time she had worn trousers, and it took her a moment to become accustomed to the restricted movement. They did however, go some way to keeping the unnatural cold at bay.

Opening her room door, she listened for sounds of anyone nearby. Even though she had been moved from the cells and allowed to stay unguarded, she still felt bumping into someone as she snooped around wouldn’t go in her favour. Silence within greeted her. Very faintly in the distance she could just make out the familiar snores she had come recognise over her weeks of travel. Her feet were bare as she tiptoed out, the cold stone a tad uncomfortable, but the lack of shoes improved her stealth.

Padding down the dark corridor where her room was located, she noted the other doors lining it. All with similar rooms behind she guessed. It looked as if, at some point in its past, Kaer Morhen had been made to house a lot more people indeed. Now, she was the only guest on this floor built for sleeping. Ironic that she couldn’t fulfil its purpose.

At the end of the corridor a flight of stair descended into darkness, and one rose up to another floor of the impossibly large keep. Knowing that the majority of the current living spaces were downstairs Ellie took the downward flight, running a hand against the ice-cold stone as she did. She had visited castles before as a child, but this was monumental in comparison. Not to mention it was still being used, whereas the places she had visited before had all been ghostly shells of a past life. 

She kept walking down, passing two more floors of what looked like dorm rooms. When Eskel had brought her up here after the ritual, she had been dazed and struggling to stay upright, so a lot of what she passed now in the dark was unfamiliar. She tried using her nose instead of her eyes to direct her towards the central point of the keep, the main hall. Latching onto the scent of herbs and spice she wound her way through the branching corridors and side rooms until she arrived in the soaring expanse of the hall. 

Here the sound of snoring was loudest. Turning her head to where the noise was strongest, she saw three small beds set against the far wall, and three bodies lying on them covered in furs. She stepped a little closer to the three sleeping witchers, making sure to keep a safe distance. Eskel was sprawled out, his arms and legs hanging off the small bed. Next to him Geralt was just barely visible, his white hair sticking out above his furs. 

The last one Ellie felt her eyes being drawn to, she had seen Lambert sleeping before but a bed roll on a hard forest floor was very different to a bed. His furs were half off his upper body, and with a start she realised he was topless underneath them. He was lying on his back, one arm flung wide off the bed, the other curled above his slightly ruffled black hair. He was snoring softly, his face partially relaxed in sleep. She noticed he looked a lot younger when he wasn’t scowling or sneering at everything and everyone. There was a carefree innocence in his expression and it made her stomach squeeze uncomfortably. His features weren’t completely serene however, a small crease between his dark eyebrows made it look like he was concentrating on something. Even as she noticed this he let out a groan in his sleep, his expression becoming more pained. He was having a nightmare. She thought about waking him, but the idea of being caught staring at him while he was asleep made her abandon the idea. 

Looking around the largely empty, cold hall she wondered why they all chose to sleep here, instead of one of the many dorm rooms upstairs. Surely it would be warmer and with more privacy? She was pondering the thought when her eyes landed on a crumpled piece of metal pushed to one edge of the room. Frowning she walked closer to inspect it. As it became clearer in the dim light, Ellie instinctual froze and took a step back. The metal torture table she had been strapped to a few hours earlier, sat discarded and broken. Its sides were twisted up, the metal bent beyond recognition.

She walked up to it, examining the damage she had inflicted during her ordeal. She could see the indentations from her fingers moulded into the sides of the table. The places where the restraints had been were now just jagged lines of metal, sheared off when she had pulled free. A frown appeared as she examined it further. Beside the damage her straining against it had done there were heavy dents, like someone had struck the table repeatedly with a blunt object. Scanning the thing again Ellie now saw that there was far more damage than she had originally inflicted to it. The table now resembled a modern art sculpture rather than a functional piece of furniture. She ran a hand over one dent, the deep bowl of it on the main surface of the table. Something, or _someone_ , had destroyed this after she had walked away. 

Suspecting she knew the culprit, she glanced over her shoulder at the still sleeping Lambert. Another memory surfaced as she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, of a man letting his rage consume him as he smashed furniture in an abandoned farm house. 

‘What did you do, idiot?’ She whispered. A sadness filling her as she imagined him taking his anger and frustration out on this rusting relic. Where did all that rage and bitterness come from, she wondered. Maybe in time he would tell her, but that would mean them getting closer and she had already decided against that.

Turning away from the macabre corpse of the table, Ellie decided to explore some more the keep. Yennefer had mentioned a tower and a laboratory, so there were likely more rooms to discover that had similarly interesting purposes. A school of witchers might even have a library somewhere, she thought excitedly as she picked one of the many doors leading off from the hall. 

She ended up wondering around in complete confusion for most of the night. The main hall had been easy to find due to her familiarity with the witcher’s scents, and because she had been there before. Once she left it however, Kaer Morhen became an impenetrable rabbit warren of nooks and crannies, hallways leading off other hallways and doors leading to nowhere in particular. Ellie was sure she had visited the same storeroom five times as she tried to navigate to some kind of place of significance. 

The closest she had come was when she had taken a flight of stairs down beneath the keep once more. The temperature dropping to the same artic cold the cells had been. She had come upon a room with no windows but one immense fireplace built into the far wall. It was larger even than the one in the main hall, and had several iron pots suspended over where the fire would normally reside. As it was, there were only a small pile of burning embers beneath one pot, the smell of meat and spices strong in here. Ellie proudly deduced that this must be the keep’s kitchen.

Moving further in, she had looked at the innumerable rusting pots and pans arranged on the dusty shelves. Only a few looked like they were being used, and even these were covered in dirt. This whole keep felt more like a museum, a time capsule to a bygone age of witchers; and the more she saw the more she hungered to know its secrets. 

Ellie found her way to another storeroom in the kitchen, this one however was filled from floor to ceiling with food. Taking in a deep breath, she let the medley of scents waft over her. There were the smells of dried meats and sourdough bread that she had smelt a lot on the road here. There were also a number of vegetables and preserves that she could identify. Then her nose caught the whiff of something sweet and she was immediately on the case. It took only a few seconds to root out the heavy jar of honey, the oozy, golden liquid within almost seeming to glow through the thick glass. A smile spread across Ellie’s face and she clutched the jar protectively to her chest. She had eaten nothing since being in Lambert’s company, they wouldn’t mind surely if she had something now? 

Taking her prize, she left the pantry and hopped up onto one of the large preparation tables set in the middle of the kitchen. Settling herself, she slowly undid the lid of the jar and revelled in the sickly-sweet perfume released from it. She didn’t need to eat and most of the time she avoided the inconvenience of it, but sweet things were her weakness and she’d had a rough few weeks. Leisurely, she dipped her finger into the viscous liquid and gathered some of it on the end. The honey collided with her tongue and the instant hit of sugar rushed into her blood, sending it singing through her veins. Food in the demon world was limited and not very plateable to a human, so whenever she got a chance to eat something nice it was usually sweet.

She spent the next hour periodically dipping her finger in the honey jar and sucking the residue off. She made sure not to eat too much, not wanting to deplete the stash for people who genuinely needed the nutrients, but by the time she was done the jar was definitely a little emptier. Leaving the kitchen, she had endeavoured to find her way outside, although the whole process took another hour of getting lost and finding that Purgatory forsaken storeroom an additional three times.

Finally, after finding her way back to the main hall she managed to retrace her steps from when she had first arrived at the keep and exit into the inner court yard. The light was just beginning to touch the horizon, the cloud blanketed in pale grey clouds giving the dawn light an eerie quality to it. There was the kind of dull, muffled effect to the atmosphere which signalled an approaching snow storm, and as she stood on the steps of the keep the first snowflakes began to drift down. They danced around her like faeries in the wind, their forms too tiny to make out. 

The trousers certainly helped, Ellie felt practically snug in the supple leather as she walked down through the derelict courtyard to the next level of the keep. Although her bare feet began to twinge, she preferred to at least feel some freedom as continued her exploration. The area here was in similar disrepair but the most notable damage was to the east wall, a large chunk of it had collapsed, the debris creating a steep pile of rubble and bits of masonry. A serviceable wooden scaffold had been built around it, and Ellie could see the beginnings of some kind of repairs to part of it. She wasn’t a builder or architect of any kind, but even she could see the hole would take more than the men here to complete before more of it fell away. It appeared like the witchers were trying to shore up what they could of their home, while the world did a far better job of tearing it down. 

Passing through the second courtyard, Ellie came upon the lower level of the keep and the place she had entered on horseback with Lambert. To one side of the gate she could see the wooden lean to that acted as a stable, the rear ends of Roach, Scorpion and Horse sticking out as they dozed. In the centre of the yard were a row of straw dummies, set up for training she imagined. Slowly she walked down until she was in front of them. The dawn light was stronger now, but the snow clouds still blocked most of it. It gave the dummies a strange yellowish tint to them, making their featureless straw heads unnerving.

To one side of the training area there were a few weapons left in an untidy muddle. Surprised that the witchers would leave good swords out to rust Ellie went over to them, with the aim of hiding them from the snowfall. Once there she could see they were actually made of wood. Better for training novices with, so as to not cut off a limb…or a head. She picked up a staff and balanced it on her hand, weighing the weapon. It had a little weight to it, but not enough to seriously injure someone if they got hit by it. She wasn’t sure if it was the familiarity of the weapon or the fact the memory had been dragged to the surface recently, but she found herself thinking of her training with Solomon.

_Put your weight onto your back foot and lean away. Improving your balance is the key to getting quicker. Even the swiftest flying Ifrit needs to be able to land effectively._

His words came back to her, and automatically she began to work through her forms in the cold light of the dawn. The routine of passing through the different fighting positions; first low to the ground, then rising up to one leg, the staff an extension of her arm as she balanced. Then twisting in one fluid movement to change direction and legs, the staff now held out behind her. 

As she made her way around the yard, flowing and bending like the wind, she felt the tension from the scrying ritual begin to finally leave her muscles. With the taste of honey in her mouth and the comfort of a weapon in her hand, she felt nearly whole for the first time in a long time. Even more so than before she had come to this world. The pressure of being in charge, of being hated and looked up to in equal measure, all this melted away as she moved from one form to another. There was a simplicity to it that she’d come to miss. 

She found herself back in front of the dummies and having warmed up, the weight and feel of the staff now a little more familiar, she decided to test her strength and took a swing at the nearest one. Spinning the staff over her hand, she deftly caught it and sent it whistling through the air to connect with the straw head. With a deeply satisfying thwack the head of the dummy exploded, sending a cloud of yellow straw raining down on Ellie. She let out a low chuckle as she straightened out of her fighting stance, plucking a strand out of her hair. She was just focusing her attention on the next one in line and wondering if she could uproot it completely, when a voice came from behind her.

‘A bit early to be picking fights, wouldn’t you say?’ 

Whirling round, Ellie reflexively held up the staff in front of her, then lowered it slowly when she saw the smiling face of Vesemir. 

‘Sorry.’ She said, her voice cracking from disuse. She gave him an awkward grin and shrugged. ‘Don’t sleep.’ 

‘Ah, yes. That must be hard. Sleep, I find, is the sanctuary everyone has a right to.’ He walked up next to her, his hands clasped behind his back. He didn’t look at her, instead examining her handiwork. ‘The monsters can’t hurt us there.’ 

‘Sometimes they can.’ Ellie said before she could stop herself. Vesemir gave her a sideways look, his wrinkle-lined amber eyes boring into her. The old witcher let out a long sigh, the intense look on his face softening. 

‘I’m sorry I put you through that, but the purpose of us witchers is to kill dangerous monsters, and demons are considered the most dangerous in my experience.’ Ellie regarded Vesemir. There was no trace of hatred or animosity towards her, only a forthrightness that spoke of a person who had seen much and survived even more.

‘I understand. There are a lot of stories about us, and none of them good it appears.’ She gave the old witcher a timid half smile. There was something about the quiet way he observed her that reminded her of Solomon. The thought made her ache.

‘Indeed.’ He said, in his low grumbling voice. He turned back to look at the dummy. ‘You did quite the number on this one. I noticed you have a unique style of fighting. Can’t say I’ve seen it before.’ 

‘My mentor taught me. He said it would complement my…diminished height and scrawny arms.’ Vesemir snorted, his eyes glittering with amusement.

‘Nothing wrong with those arms as far as I can see.’ Ellie couldn’t help grinning at him.

‘Sorry I disturbed you.’ She said, genuine regret in her voice. 

Vesemir shook his head. ‘When you get to my age child, sleep is an elusive beast. Not to mention, a waste of time.’ He surveyed the training yard, crossing his arms. ‘I’ve lost count of the number of young witchers I’ve taught the ways of the sword here. So many boys, lost and gone. Sometimes I like to come here to remind myself of them.’ 

Ellie didn’t know what to say. Watching the old witcher she could see what the years of losing those he’d taught had done to him. There was a weight to the set of his shoulders, and in that moment he looked far, far older than his appearance suggested. She wondered if witchers lived longer than normal humans, like demons did. Vesemir turned his attention from the yard to the rest of the keep, his eyes sweeping over the crumbling walls and dilapidated buildings. 

‘I’ve done my best to preserve this place, but the task is far more than my old hands can manage now. A part of me worries that without Kaer Morhen, the witchers who once lived here will be forgotten forever. Consigned to oblivion.’ 

Ellie came to stand beside him, casting her own eye over her surroundings. ‘They won’t be.’ She said, feeling Vesemir’s eyes shift to her. ‘Consigned to oblivion I mean. Only demons disappear entirely when they die.’ She tapped a finger against her chest. ‘No souls.’ 

He gave her a long hard look. The silence deafening between them. She was suddenly very nervous, wondering if she had over stepped her mark and ruined her brief moment of trust. Then the old witcher let out a harrumph and trudged over to the training weapons. He bent down and picked up a longsword, very similar in design to the swords she’d seen the others carrying. Twirling it deftly in his hand - much like Lambert - he walked back towards her, a devious smile on his face. 

‘It’s been a _long_ time since I had a new sparring partner. What say you try your hand against me instead of these boring dummies?’ There was an excited glint in his eye and Ellie found herself taking a reflexive step back.

‘Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you?’ Vesemir’s smile turned wolfish.

‘Stop your yapping girl and concentrate.’ Then before Ellie could protest anymore, he leapt forward, swinging the sword straight for her head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, my what lovely comments I've had this last week. I can't tell you how happy I am that you love Ellie and her backstory. It's super weird finally sharing it with the world but exciting at the same time. I hope you're all hungry for more but as I said last week it's back to one chapter now I'm afraid. Want to stay ahead and keep you all keen. :)


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Ellie managed to duck out of the way of the wooden training sword just in the nick of time. She heard the whistling sound of it passing above her, the air shifting from the force of his swing. Straightening up, she took several quick steps back to put some distance between her and Vesemir. The old witcher grinned at her, holding his sword up in front of his face in a defensive position as he advanced.

The moment of shock from his abrupt attack past and Ellie instinctually lowered into her fighting stance. The familiar weight of the bow staff in her a hand a comfort. She watched Vesemir as he moved towards her, his steps assured but slow. He was getting a feel for her, not wanting to charge in without knowing what she was capable of, and she was similarly inclined. She studied his foot work as he moved towards her in a wide arc, he walked carefully but there were no signs of stiffness or lethargy that Ellie would expect from a man of his advanced age. Unlike the other three witchers she had travelled with, she had never seen Vesemir fight. In fact, in her short time in his presence she had only seen him walk, and that wasn’t enough to get a bead on his movement. 

Vesemir was only a few feet from her now, easily within striking distance. Ellie remained in place, wanting him to come at her. She needed to test his mobility and strength before she decided how to tackle him. Even as she was thinking this, the witcher flashed toward her, his speed astounding, his strength even more so. As he swung down on her she lifted the staff to block his wooden blade, the loud clack echoing across the empty yard. Ellie’s teeth rattled inside her head as her arms locked, stopping the sword from reaching her skull. Pain shot through her elbows and she could feel the raw power behind Vesemir’s attack. Deciding she’d done enough research, she used her legs and pushed up against his sword, twisting to the right as she did. 

The sudden imbalance tipped Vesemir’s blade off of her staff, causing him to step to the side allowing her space to skirt around him. Darting away, Ellie reached the other side of the yard before turning back round to face him. To her alarm she saw Vesemir was already nearly upon her again. The old man unusually spry for his age. She hadn’t been moving at her quickest by any means, Lambert’s warning of using her powers still ringing in her ears, but she thought she’d still given herself enough time to analyse her next move.

The old witcher flew towards her, the wooden sword raised above his head. It left him extremely exposed to attack and she could see several ways to unbalance and floor him. However, Solomon had pulled same trick when he had been training her. Leaving himself vulnerable to see where she would go, before closing the door at the last second and knocking her to her ass. Should she take the bait and risk him getting a hit in, or play it safe and dodge? 

With no more time to decide Ellie went with her gut, the trusty instinctual compass she normally let herself be guided by. Straightening up slightly she made to strike at his unguarded left side as he got within reach. Vesemir acted as she assumed he would, switching the sword from its attacking position to a defensive one, moving to parry her blow. Before their weapons connected however, Ellie redirected the staff to his left leg and tucked herself low to the ground, moving past him. Using his own momentum against him, she hooked the pole under his foot and attempted to trip him as she flew by. There was a brief noise of surprise from above her, then Vesemir was stood where she had been seconds before, still very much upright and unphased.

Skidding to a halt, crouched low, Ellie looked back up at him in disbelief. The guy could really move. Vesemir gave her a small smirk, his amber eyes now twinkling with barely supressed glee. ‘Nice try, but you’re holding out on me girl.’

Indignant frustration flooded through her. Lambert had told her not to push herself while here, and she got the distinct impression Vesemir knew that. Giving her no time to breathe, he launched towards her again this time sending a flurry of blows her way. It was all Ellie could do to parry them, her staff flashing right and left blocking each of his frenzied attacks. He moved in a blur but there was a controlled calm about his actions that betrayed his superior knowledge of the sword. 

The last few fights she’d had with a witcher had been scrappy and desperate. A life or death circumstance with both parties ending up on the back foot. This was different. This was a match between two consenting fighters, the playing field even, the odds balanced. It was because of this that she was becoming fully aware of just how strong and fast these strange, enhanced humans were. Vesemir was old yes, but he was also the teacher of all three witchers she knew, not to mention the hundreds more he claimed to have trained here. Each cut and parry was precise, and delivered with a bone rattling force that drove her back relentlessly. She would’ve been impressed had she not been the focus of such a monstrous attack.

It was looking less and less likely this fight would last much longer without her using her full abilities. She could just give in, accept he had won and honour her promise to Lambert, but something told her Vesemir wouldn’t be satisfied with an easy surrender. A little voice in the back of her mind pondered whether he was doing this deliberately, to scope out her true potential danger. It wouldn’t be a surprise, all of them at one point or another had looked at her like she was a specimen under a microscope. Why not the man that had trained them also? 

Even as she felt herself being herded back towards the dummies, Vesemir’s focused eyes locked onto her as he delivered another barrage of blows, she couldn’t see any malice or ill intent behind his expression. There was a curiosity yes, but nothing more than that. She suddenly got the impression that he simply wanted to see what she could do, for his own amusement. 

The wall of dummies was almost at her back. If she let him keep pushing her, she’d end up cornered and that was not an attractive prospect. Her attack approach relied on speed and mobility, if she really wanted to fight him on her terms she’d need to decide now. Gritting her teeth, Ellie blocked another hit from the wooden sword. Sensing he had all but subdued his opponent Vesemir drew back, pausing in his constant hits and flourished his sword deftly in one hand. It reminded her immensely of Lambert, and the more he attacked her the more she could see all three of the witchers styles rolled into one. 

The old witcher gave her a sly grin, before launching into a pirouette that would likely send her sprawling across the ground, defeated. That wasn’t going to happen though, and right at the apex of his jump, she channelled all her strength into her legs and exploded past him in a flurry of movement and dancing snowflakes. She skidded to a halt on the opposite side of the yard again, this time the power and adrenaline surging through her blood. Turning back, she felt a swell of satisfaction at Vesemir’s partially shocked expression, his grey eyebrows raised high as he took a moment to regard her. Then the smirk was back and he readied his weapon again.

‘Now that’s more like it.’ He said, and Ellie couldn’t help grinning in response. This time she went on the offensive, sprinting towards Vesemir to catch him off guard. She was moving fast but he still reacted in time to bring his sword up, parrying her upward swing to his torso. Not stopping to let him regroup, she darted around to flank him, twirling the staff back and down towards his legs again. This time Vesemir wasn’t quick enough to avoid it. The staff struck the back of his calf and swept under him, taking his leg with it. The old witcher came crashing to the ground on his back, letting out a loud huff as the air was knocked out of him and a low curse as he sprang back to his feet. Ellie had already danced a few steps away, her grin now splitting her face.

‘Come on old man. I thought you wanted to make this interesting.’ She was giddy from landing the first real hit of the fight and felt her inhibitions lowering. Instead of looking angry or frustrated Vesemir chuckled, flourishing his sword and assuming his fighting stance.

‘Bold words girl. We’ll see if that grin’s still there in a minute.’ And he lunged forward once more. 

They fought for the better part of an hour. Sometimes Ellie gained ground; tripping Vesemir twice more and landing a few good blows to his arms and legs, and sometimes it was Vesemir winning the upper hand. Driving her back and keeping her too preoccupied with defending herself to mount any kind of attack on him. She was pretty certain that if she couldn’t heal he would have left a fair number of hefty bruises on her skin by now. She could see the sweat beginning to bead on the old witcher’s forehead and his breathing, although still regular, was coming in slightly more laboured bursts. Likewise, she could feel the toll constantly using her powers was having on her. This was the most she had exerted herself in a long time and her body was actually starting to protest.

At one point he caught her in an arm lock that stopped her from using the staff or getting away without disarming herself. He had smiled at her benevolently, ready to accept her surrender, but it had been wiped from his face as Ellie let go of the training staff, releasing her from his grip, and managed to catch the falling weapon before it hit the ground. As she circled away she had seen him nod ever so slightly in response, his amber eyes darting up towards the keep to look at something. Not wanting to be distracted she hadn’t followed his gaze and the fight had continued. 

The cold morning air was filled with the sound of wood hitting wood. The resounding clack of their weapons echoing off the walls of the keep. The snow was coming down a little heavier now, but neither party seemed perturbed by the changing elements. In fact, Ellie could feel the growing wind begin to move with her, pushing her forward to increase her speed and guiding her staff as she moved through her forms in battle. 

The more they fought the more Ellie drew on her hidden powers to get by. What had started as a friendly spar had somehow turned into a desperate fight. There was no stake involved but the more she fought the veteran witcher, the more she didn’t want to lose to him. Past experiences of training with Solomon came back. She had looked up to him and loved him more than anyone, and yet every time he had knocked her on her arse she had wanted nothing more than to get back up and beat him at his own game. It had been a long time since she had felt that competitive streak, and yet here she was.

After pushing her back for the hundredth time against the wall of the keep, Ellie felt her energy waning. Gritting her teeth and tightening her grip on the staff she launched forward in a last-ditch effort to knock the witcher down. As she moved she felt the wind pick up around her, and the snowflakes which had been steadily getting thicker seemed to solidify. A thin crust of ice formed where her hands held the rough wood of the staff and she leapt in the arm, arching over Vesemir and striking down with all her remaining strength. She saw his eyes widen in surprise at the unexpected height of her jump, the wind picking her up and carrying her further. Then her staff connected with his shoulder and he stumbled forward from the impact. 

Feeling victory was close at hand, Ellie landed and whirled around instantly, ready to deal the finishing blow. But where he had been a split second before - on his knees and injured - now there was just an empty space. As her brain tried to catch up she felt a presence behind her. Spinning, she lashed out with the staff but she was off balance and caught off guard. She saw a flash grey hair and a pair of burning amber eyes, then a hard band of wood collided with the back of her legs and she felt them being swept from under her. The breath left her in a rush as her rear connected with the frozen ground. The staff clattering off to the side of her. Then the wooden tip of a sword touched her chin, lifting her head up to look her opponent in the eyes. 

Vesemir smiled down at her with that same benevolent smile, he remained unruffled by the whole ordeal, although there was a faint sheen of sweat on his brow and a few strands of grey had escaped and were floating in the wind. He raised an eyebrow as he regarded her, that gleam of excitement shining brighter than ever in his eyes. 

Ellie let out a sigh and held up her hands. ‘I yield.’ She said, her tone defeated. Vesemir moved the sword away from her throat, letting out a chuckle as he did. She watched as his eyes flicked up to somewhere behind her again, his smile quirking at the corners. Turning his attention back to her, he tossed the training sword to one side and held out his hand. Taking it, she looked up at him sheepishly but he gave her a wink back as he lifted to her feet. 

‘Not bad at all…kid.’ He said. The hair on Ellie’s arms rose, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. In that moment she wasn’t looking into the wrinkled face of Vesemir, she was looking at the smiling eyes and rigid expression of Solomon. Vesemir released her hand and walked away, leaving Ellie standing shocked in the middle of the training yard. Eventually she retrieved her senses enough to watch as he made his way back towards the main keep. As her eyes travelled with him she saw three figures watching from near the archway to the second yard. 

Two of them turned to greet the old witcher as he approached them, but one remained staring down at her. Lambert’s expression was hard to read from this distance, but she felt her insides churn all the same. She had just done exactly what he’d told her not to do, she had broken a promise. Would he hate her for it? 

The other two figures of Geralt and Eskel were now deep in conversation with Vesemir, Eskel looked over and grinned down at her. But Ellie was only focused on Lambert and that strange unwavering look he was giving her now. After a few moments he turned and began walking back towards the keep, ignoring the others…and her. 

* * *

Lambert was confused. He was the most confused he had been in a very, very long time. He was currently carefully measuring out portions of saltpeter and optima mater to mix together for dimeritium bombs. The process was intricate and dangerous, as one wrong move could cause an explosion to level the small storeroom he was in, not mention set off all the other bombs in his stash in the aftermath. He was hoping it would distract him from his swirling thoughts, and the fight he had watched earlier. 

If he was being honest, the last thing he had expected when Eskel had come running up to them telling them to come outside, was his old teacher clashing with the demon girl in the middle of the training yard. At first, he had thought about stopping it, believing Vesemir was going back on his word and attacking her. Then the familiar sound of wooden training weapons crashing together reached him. He was…sparring with her? The last time he had seen Vesemir using those wooden swords had been when Ciri was still only knee high. He watched on in confusion as the pair had danced and parried around each other. His two brothers also looked on in silence, and he would have given a dozen crowns right then to hear Geralt’s thoughts. 

The White wolf had been sour towards Blue eyes from the moment he’d met her. Part of Lambert – the selfish part – was glad that was the case. There was something about the thought of that smarmy whoreson seducing her, like he did with all the ladies, that made Lambert want to tear that snow-white hair off his head. The other part, was more concerned that his brother in arms didn’t trust her, and was secretly plotting to harm her in some way. This thought put Lambert very on edge, and he found himself watching Geralt a lot more than he had before.

Lambert finished the batch of dimeritium bombs he was making and gently put them to one side. He was sat on the floor, his materials and equipment laid out haphazardly around him. He rubbed a hand over his face, still trying to get the image of Blue eyes leaping around in those leather trousers out of his mind’s eye. He hadn’t seen her fighting with a weapon, and with an unobstructed view he found himself hypnotised by the fluid, sinuous way she twisted and moved around the training yard. The staff she was using was just a simple bit of wood, but the way she wielded it made it appear as deadly as a real sword. At one point he had been certain she was actually going to win, but then the old coot had pulled one of his irritating manoeuvres, dodging round Blue eyes to knock her down. 

He had felt a moment of pity for the girl, memories of his own posterior getting dumped in the mud at Vesemir’s feet sharp in his mind. Then, the old man had offered his hand to her and Lambert felt a sting of jealousy. He wasn’t certain if it was aimed at Blue eyes or Vesemir, all of a sudden he was aware of being on the outside looking in on something. All of his life he had been the black sheep, whether it was his father beating him bloody and giving him up to the witchers, or the other witchers shunning him for his abrasive, and often times, insulting personality. Lambert had always felt other, not wanted. With Blue eyes it had been different. She had looked at him as a man, not a child stealing witcher, and she had even seemed to _enjoy_ his company. When the others had joined them, he had hated the way she’d preferred Eskel’s company, the only saving grace being Geralt’s lack of trust towards her. 

Now as he watched Vesemir smiling down at her and her answering grin, he found his insides twisting uncomfortably. The walls beginning to reform around him, shutting him off from the others. She had turned and looked up at them, her blue eyes radiant even from a distance, the gentle snowfall collecting in her hair, and he had stared back, unmoving. He had been through this before, having feelings for someone that was beyond his reach. The best bet was to distance himself and let the others help her instead. After all, he had fulfilled his promise. He had got her to Kaer Morhen, his job was done and she didn’t need him anymore.

Lambert sifted through what he had left in front of him. If he was clever he could stretch the last of his saltpeter to make a few more grapeshots as well. He was just measuring out the necessary portions, when the sound of light, quick footsteps reached his ears. His muscles tensed as the smell of sulphur hit his nose, but he kept looking down at his work even as the door to the storeroom opened.

‘I thought I smelt you in here.’ Her voice sent a jagged knife through his chest. _Fuck sake Lambert_ , _get a grip_ , he chastised. ‘What are you doing hiding in here moping?’ 

‘I’m not moping.’ He snapped reflexively. ‘If you must know, I’m busy making bombs.’

‘Really?’ Her voice perked up, and he felt the air shift next to him as she crouched down in the open doorway. ‘Can I watch?’

‘No.’ He said abruptly, and he saw her flinch from the corner of his eye. The jagged knife twisted cruelly, but he’d had enough of being cast aside and he wasn’t about to let it happen again. 

‘Oh. Okay.’ Her voice had lost all of its previous enthusiasm, and there was a heavy sadness in it that Lambert hadn’t heard before. She straightened up, her legs only a few feet from him. ‘It’s probably for the best. Don’t want to accidently blow your hands off with me gawking at you.’ The words held no life. It was almost like she’d been deflated. _Great, fucking idiot like always Lambert._

She turned to leave him, but paused in the doorway. He could feel the atmosphere was heavy with something unsaid, that tension he had become so used to on their rides crackling in the air. ‘I just came to tell you…’. Her voice was still sad, but there was a finality about it that made Lambert look at her for the first time since she’d come to him. 

He immediately regretted his decision. Her eyes were a shimmering sky blue, her features filled with a heart wrenching sorrow. It made every nerve in his body scream out for him to stop being a stupid, prideful ass and just hold her. Before he could give into the urge, Blue eyes spoke again. 

‘I think you’re right, it’s best we keep this…civil, from now on.’ The knife disappeared into his chest to the hilt, and the walls slammed up behind it. Cast aside, once again. 

‘Yeah, sure. That’s fine.’ He said bitterly, feeling his mouth pull up into a sneer. ‘Probably better this way. You’ll be gone soon anyway, so no reason to make it any harder.’ For a brief moment he thought he saw her wince at his words. Like her own invisible knife had stabbed her, but it was gone before he could be sure and her face settled into an emotionless mask. Her eyes darkening to a deep-sea blue. 

‘Exactly. I’ll be gone soon.’ Her words sounded bitter but Lambert wasn’t sure why. She had been the one to tell him she wasn’t interested after all. She stared at him a moment longer, dithering in the door as if she wanted to say more. Then her mouth clamped shut and she turned to leave him again. 

Lambert felt his eyes drifting of their own accord to her rear as she walked away. Gods, why did she look so damn good in those leather trousers? Even though there was less of her on show, he found the soft material hugging her form to be even more revealing. The thought didn’t help his rapidly darkening mood, the image of her ass walking away the new image now burnt into his mind’s eye. 

He stared after her for a second, then in a burst of anger he leant forward and slammed the heavy oak door shut. It let out a thunderous boom which had probably echoed around the keep alerting everyone within a five-mile radius of his tantrum, but Lambert found he didn’t care. They were all used to his unfavourable attitude. Blue eyes had been the only one that had made him feel even the slightest bit desirable, and now, like so many others she had gone off him as well. He wasn’t surprised, he had been expecting it even, but a small part of him had still hoped for something more this time. 

He turned his attention back to the only thing that remain constant in his life…bombs. He tried to continue measuring the saltpeter but found his hands were too tense and gave up after a few minutes. Left alone with only his thoughts for company, Lambert let out a heavy sigh and proceeded to bang his head against the stone wall behind him, in a desperate attempt to get that image of her walking away out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short one this week. Apologies, but sometimes the story divides up this way. Didn't want to launch into the next act cos we'd be here all week. ;) I hope you're still enjoying my little random story, plenty still to come and a chapter I think you'll all be interested in that I've just written. I'll see you all in a week. :)


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Winter in Kaer Morhen was a very different pace to life on the Path. Time seemed to slow to an unbearable crawl once the snows began to arrive. The trick, Lambert found, was to find an absorbing project that would occupy the mind enough to not notice the painful passage of time. This usually involved him either experimenting with new bomb formulas, or fishing down at the lake near the keep. The fishing would only last until a month before winter solstice, by then the majority of the lake freezing over making it impossible to navigate by boat. Besides, Lambert’s method wasn’t really suited to ice fishing. Once that option was gone, he would usually retreat into his store of bombs and spend most of the day tinkering away with what supplies he had hoarded on the Path. That was, until Vesemir found him and forced him to drill with the rest of them, or worse…assist in rebuilding the draughty old building. 

Every year, without fail, the old bastard would take advantage of the extra hands and cajole and harangue them into helping. Lambert was baffled why he even bothered. The keep was long past saving, years of decay and attacks had left it riddled with breaches, and the actual keep itself was slowly mouldering from within due to long empty halls and rooms. The life and spirit of Kaer Morhen had disappeared with every witcher lost to the Path or worse, it crawled with ghosts and Lambert _hated_ it. It was why, whenever he found himself shifting rubble or passing mortar to Vesemir he would be at his most bitter. Snapping at his brothers and picking fights with the old man constantly. Eventually, he would win and Vesemir would stop asking him to help. Choosing peace instead of an extra pair of hands. 

As this was the start of the season, the traditional cycle had yet to establish itself, so it was with wary caution that Lambert stepped out into the biting cold of the courtyard the day after his galling encounter with Blue eyes. He scanned the perimeter, looking for where the old coot had decided to focus his attention this winter and found an altogether unexpected sight. Vesemir was halfway up a scaffold he had built around a breach in the east wall, mixing a large vat of mortar. This alone wasn’t unusual, what made Lambert pause and stare in disbelief was the slim, agile figure currently scaling the broken masonry, a large slab of stone hoisted onto one shoulder. Snow fall from yesterday had left a slick, patchy covering of white all over the yard and walls. The stone was almost as big as Blue eyes but she carried it up the treacherous incline as if it were nothing more than a bag of grain. Lambert could feel his eyebrows rising in awe even as his mood lowered.

Why was she helping the old bastard? He had put her through hell just to placate his nervous disposition. She should be refusing to lift a finger towards this gods forsaken place. He watched as she reached the top of the half-collapsed wall and placed the stone slab carefully in position next to a row of other new stones. How long had they been doing this? It wasn’t long after dawn and yet it looked like they were halfway through the construction work. 

He wasn’t aware how long he stood there, but it was enough time for Vesemir to notice. The old witcher stopped in his mixing and hailed Lambert. ‘You gonna’ stand around gawping all day, or are you gonna’ make yourself useful?’

Lambert felt the automatic annoyance at being roped into fixing and building like some kind of mundane stonemason, then his attention was caught by Blue eyes who had stopped in her work as well to look at him. Even from a distance he could sense the guarded way she watched him. Her face was the same emotionless mask she’d been wearing yesterday as she turned to leave him. It sent another cold dagger of pain into Lambert’s chest. His gut roiling with resentment as he watched the easiness with which she now interacted with Vesemir. A man who had wanted her dead five days ago. 

Choosing to ignore the girl perched on top of the wall, he turned his gaze back to Vesemir. ‘Where are the others? I don’t see them lending a hand either.’

The old witcher waved his hand dismissively towards the lower yards. ‘They’re running their drills. Might be better if you join them, Geralt said your parries were a little rusty when he sparred you last.’ The resentment doubled. _Damn that fucking white haired saint._

‘Sure, might go and pay him back for that punch the other day.’ Lambert muttered, certain that Vesemir had heard it anyway. He began to walk towards the training yard but just as he got to the archway leading out he glanced over his shoulder. Blue eyes had returned to carting up more slabs of stone, her lithe legs covered in those infuriating leather trousers making quick work of it. The cold dagger twisted in its new home in Lambert’s chest, and he marched purposefully off in the hopes of hitting something extra hard to take his mind off of it.

* * *

He’d hoped it was a one off; that Blue eyes was just being nice to the old man to get in his good books, but as the days went on and she continued to be halfway up a wall, or perched on the parapets repairing and lifting and doing most of the labour, Lambert realised that she was genuinely invested in Vesemir’s life long project.

The upside of the whole bizarre turn of events meant that he was no longer nagged and bullied into helping too. Occasionally he would see Eskel or Geralt helping the old man – the latter keeping a healthy distance between him and the girl – but usually it was just the two of them slaving away. He only ever heard or saw Blue eyes when he was doing drills with the others or heading out to the lake, but he was certain that when they were all asleep in the keep at night that she was still working out in the cold. His primary evidence for this was the fact that every day when he woke up, the work he had seen her doing the day previous was usually completed. The eastern wall that had been destroyed in the attack by the Salamanders all those years previous, was inexplicably finished only a day after he had first seen her working on it with Vesemir.

On top of the construction work, he had also caught her clearing the weeds and vines that had begun to invade the keep due to years of neglect. Suddenly the three inner yards started to resemble how they used to look when Lambert had first come to Kaer Morhen. He found himself feeling disorientated whenever he stepped out of the still dilapidated keep into the upper yard. It was almost like stepping through a portal into another time and he half expected to see Voltehre, his long dead friend, running up to meet him. He wasn’t sure he liked the changes, but Vesemir was happier than a water hag in mud whenever he saw him, so at least he was left in peace the majority of the time.

He said the majority, because the rest of the time he had Eskel constantly chewing his ass out about Blue eyes. It seemed their mutual agreement to stay away from each other hadn’t gone down so well with his older brother. The scarred witcher using every opportunity he could to drop hints and barbed comments about the pair of them. Lambert had noticed it was only when he was around, not the girl, and as far as he was aware Eskel wasn’t making a song and dance about it to her, so it only served to piss him off more and more as the days and weeks went on.

‘You can’t ignore each other forever.’ Eskel said one day, as they were mucking out the stables together. Lambert dumped some of Whoresons shit to one side as he shot his brother a dangerous glance.

‘Yes we fucking can. It’s a big place.’ Eskel rolled his eyes. 

‘That’s not what I meant jackass, and you know it.’ Lambert began to stab a little too violently at the pile of straw. 

‘Yeah, yeah, I knew what you meant, but it doesn’t change my answer.’

‘Why the fuck not? You like her, she likes you. Just _talk_ man.’ Lambert could hear the blood pounding though his head as he tried to block out the other witcher’s annoying words. 

‘Cos we did, and she said she didn’t want me.’ His words came out louder than he was intending, causing Whoreson to jerk his head up from his breakfast to give his master a concerned look.

‘Did she? Did she say those _exact_ words? Because from where I’ve been standing she looks pretty heartbroken every time you walk past.’ 

Lambert stabbed some more at the inanimate straw pile. ‘Then you’re real shitty at reading people brother, sorry.’ He could feel Eskel’s eyes on him as he continued shifting fresh bedding into Whoreson’s stall. He knew Eskel meant well, but he wasn’t involved in whatever the fuck was going on between him and Blue eyes. It hurt him too, to watch her going about her business, in his home, with his friends, but she’d said to keep things civil. So, he would. 

With the walls refortified and the inner courtyards cleared, Blue eyes turned her attention to a small patch of overgrown land set in a secluded part of the keep. Lambert had never really noticed the space before, but as he was walking towards the training yard for morning drills he saw her small, familiar frame bent over, ripping out weeds and muttering to herself. As he slowed down to watch this bizarre scene he noticed Vesemir was stood nearby, also watching in fascinated silence. 

Lambert thought about moving on and leaving them to whatever new project they’d started but the old witcher turned and saw him. ‘Morning Lambert.’

If the strange behaviour from Blue eyes wasn’t enough to give him pause, then Vesemir’s unusually civil greeting did the trick. He gave him a wary look. ‘Morning old man. What job have you got your new slave doing today?’ 

Vesemir raised an eyebrow at his snarky response but didn’t chastise him. Now Lambert was _really_ intrigued. ‘She decided on this one herself if you must know.’ He gave Lambert a reproachful look. ‘You’re not annoyed at me for taking advantage of our new guest’s enthusiasm, are you? I would’ve thought you’d be happy I wasn’t making you help me this year, seeing as you usually give us all a headache for daring to drag you away from your boat or bombs.’

Lambert cast an irritated glance towards Blue eyes. Thankfully she seemed far too engrossed in whatever the fuck it was she was doing to pay attention to the two witchers. Regardless, he walked over to Vesemir, not wanting to talk quite so loudly in her presence. ‘No, as long as that’s what it is…enthusiasm. I know you Vesemir, you have a gift of twisting people’s arms.’ 

The old witcher held up his hands, ‘No arm twisting here. The girl saw me mending the east wall and asked if she could be of assistance. Who am I to turn down a strong pair of hands.’ 

Lambert narrowed his eyes. ‘Just seems like exploitation to me. Seeing as you wanted her dead originally.’ Vesemir gave him one of his trademark long, hard looks. 

‘Worried about exploitation now? If I didn’t know any better I’d say the girl is a tremendous influence on you.’

‘ _Know any better_ , what the fuck does that mean?’ At this, Vesemir let out an exasperated sigh. 

‘I may be old, but I’m far from blind. I’ve seen enough of Geralt’s escapades to know when two people like each other but are avoiding the inevitable for some stupid reason or another.’ Vesemir gave him that look he’d always hated. The look where he was trying to peer into his very soul and learn the truth before you said it. Lambert averted his eyes, choosing instead to look at the girl still on her knees in the dirt. They were far enough away that she couldn’t hear them, but Lambert was certain she would have picked up his scent by now. She had the nose of a werewolf that one. Still, she kept her eyes on the ground, rooting out weeds and mumbling to herself as she did it. 

‘I’m not Geralt.’ He finally responded. He heard Vesemir snort.

‘Of that, I am fully aware. However, I do think you should follow his lead. Not be too hard on yourself. It is a rare thing to find a person willing to overlook our…differences.’ The look Vesemir gave him now was something Lambert had never seen directed at him before. It was almost…fatherly. He felt a tight constricting pain in his chest, different to the knife that he now associated with Blue eyes, this was more like a longing he didn’t know he had. He stared, unsure what to do, at the old witcher for a moment then cleared his throat, his lip curling into its familiar sneer.

‘What’s this old man? Trying to have a heart to heart with me? What happened to a witcher’s only concern is his work? Not like you haven’t tried to hammer that into my skull over the years.’

Vesemir placed a hand on Lambert’s shoulder. The young witcher didn’t know whether to shrug it off or hold it in place. ‘Lambert, I learnt the hard way that love doesn’t come around often. Don’t live to regret your decisions.’ 

Lambert scoffed at his words, but inside he drank them in greedily. ‘Never thought I’d hear the day you were encouraging me to shack up with a demon of all things.’

He let out another long sigh. ‘My boy, you’ve been walking the Path long enough to know that not all monsters are evil and not all humans are good. Or are you so blinded by cynicism and bitterness that you no longer care.’ He jerked his head towards Blue eyes. ‘She’s a good one. Didn’t know that before, but actions mean everything in my book. Never known a person so willing to help strangers.’

‘Hmm.’ Lambert said, noncommittally. 

‘We live a long, hard life. So, seize the moment when it comes, boy.’ He patted Lambert’s shoulder gently, and for once the young witcher didn’t feel a surge of anger at the diminutive term. Vesemir gave him one last measured look before walking away. 

Lambert was conflicted. He had always found solace in keeping people at arm’s length. Less easy for them to hurt you that way. He knew it led to him feeling worse, but in the long run, it was safer. Now, as he watched Vesemir’s back retreating, his words of advice still echoing in his ears, he couldn’t help but feel tired with all the sniping and posturing. Wouldn’t it be easier to just give in? He looked towards the girl, still busy with her weeds, her brown hair blowing in the cold wind, her cheeks pink from the chill and he felt that strong insistent tugging in his gut, pulling him towards her. 

‘Fuck it all.’ He muttered, before turning and walking hurriedly away.

* * *

Ellie filled her days with work. It was the easiest way to keep her mind off things. She was grateful for the peace that the keep brought, but at the same time sitting around doing nothing was driving her crazy. She felt useless as Triss and Yen went off and tried to find out why she was here and what was stopping her leaving. She would have given anything to join in the search – it was her job after all – but she didn’t know this world and knew she would only get in the way. Instead, she did her best to cooperate whenever they returned and asked her questions. She had already talked them through how she summoned doors and some of the abilities most demons had. She had worried to start with, that it felt a little like betraying them, as Yen always appeared to understand everything she was saying. Triss, on the other hand struggled occasionally with her choice of words, or explanations. Nevertheless, the pair always thanked her and continued on their search through the continent. Apparently, demons were an extremely rare occurrence, with most believing them to not exist at all. If there was something that could interfere with one or was themselves a demon, they would be well hidden from most magic users. At least, that’s what Yen had told her. 

When they were away, leaving her alone with the witchers, Ellie had found comfort and distraction in helping Vesemir repair the tired keep. She had run into him, just after dawn the day after their sparring match. He had been up the rickety scaffold she had noticed on the eastern wall, trying to lever a large slab of stone into place. Without thinking, she had scaled the wooden structure and hefted the heavy stone into position. Vesemir had looked at her in shocked surprise, then without saying a word had simply nodded and moved onto the next slab, leaving enough room next to him for her to continue to help. 

Since that day she had worked tirelessly to repair and restore the keep to some of its former glory. Whilst they worked Vesemir regaled her with tales of his past and the keep when it had been a proper witcher school, in between giving directions. When he and the others had retreated into the keep for dinner, she had continued on. Not needing to eat or sleep, she often completed the work before midnight, resulting in a delighted Vesemir the next morning when yet another job was completed. 

It was in this time, between the witching hour and dawn, that Ellie found herself at a loose end. She had spent the first few weeks wandering the keep, learning more of its labyrinthine corridors. A fortnight into staying there she had stumbled upon a colossal room filled with stacks upon stacks of books. It smelt strongly of leather and must, and she had fallen in love immediately. The next day Vesemir had confirmed, yes, they did indeed have a library in the keep. Filled with old witcher texts and history, along with gods knew what else the sorceresses had added. He had told her she was welcome to read whatever she could understand, as a lot of it was written in an old language. From that moment on, whenever she had finished the building task they had been working on that day, she would find her way to the library and read until the sun began to turn the sky grey. 

Vesemir had been right, a lot of the sizable tomes that she’d managed to carefully take down from the shelves were in a language that Ellie did not recognise. Still, she spent some time just marvelling at the elegant cursive and shimmering pictures etched into the yellow parchment. The ones she _could_ understand however, she spent whole nights reading. All those questions she had been dying to ask the others, all that knowledge of this strange world she had been unexpectedly dumped into, she absorbed hungrily from the pages. 

Something in particular that caught her eye, was an event known as the ‘Conjuncture of the Spheres’. There weren’t many first-hand accounts of it, but here say and theories made it sound a lot like many gateways opening up at once between worlds. She had heard of something similar happening in Purgatory, long before Mortimer had become Mayor and the Gatekeepers had been established. It made her think that maybe they were connected somehow, as Purgatory was meant to be the centre pin of _all_ worlds. Another fact about this world that got her wildly over excited was the knowledge that both elves and dwarves existed. She had seen a lot of wild things in her time, but never a real-life elf or dwarf. Part of her wanted to go and bug Lambert to ask if he’d seen any, and what they were like. Then she’d remember the agreement they’d made and quickly find something else to distract her.

No matter how busy she kept herself, through night or day, the one enduring certainty was that her thoughts would always drift back to that arrogant witcher. It wasn’t helped by the fact that she saw him most days whilst helping Vesemir. Often times he would be marching past, on his way to the training yard to spar with the other two, or out of the keep completely to go ‘fishing’ Vesemir claimed. Although the idea of Lambert doing something as time consuming and requiring any kind of patience like that was hard for her to believe. Other times he would stop for a moment and watch them, and these were the worst. 

She would feel his eyes on her, no matter where she was stood or how absorbed she was in her work. His presence would be like a heavy weight on her body, pressing down and insisting she turn to look at him. It took all of her will power not to obey and ignore that tugging on the thread that seemed to permanently bind them now. She had made her choice and it was safer for both of them if she no longer gave into this strange attraction. It was hard though. Oh Purgatory, how it was _hard._ She missed his snarky comments and baffled looks at her. She missed his subtle kindnesses; sneaking Horse his last ration or placing a blanket over her when she was cold. Most of all she missed just talking to him, in those moments when he had been most at ease talking back. It had just been…easy with him. 

Once she had exhausted all the jobs in the main yards and the walls were looking as impenetrable as she would’ve expected of a keep like this, she searched for the next thing to take her mind of a certain witcher. She was inspecting a break in the southern wall in the second yard when she stumbled upon a hidden corner of the keep. It was a wildly overgrown patch of land ringed by shoulder high dry-stone walls. It was perfectly camouflaged into the grey of the surrounding keep so had gone unnoticed by her. Stepping through a partially rotten wooden door, Ellie felt her spirits lift. Despite the jungle of head height plants covered in a fine layer of snow, it was clear this space had been a garden of some sort. Just visible through the foliage were simple stepping stone paths running between what would have plant beds. Ellie had always loved gardening and so her new project was born.

She started by knocking down the obscuring walls so they were waist height, giving the garden much needed light. It was while she was enthusiastically clearing the weeds that Vesemir had found her. ‘I forgot this place existed.’ He said, leaning on the wall as he watched her uproot a particularly stubborn bramble. 

‘What was it exactly? Didn’t peg you witchers as the green fingered type.’ 

‘Used to be a herb garden if I remember correctly. Although no one’s touched it since our last alchemy specialist died in the first pogrom.’ Ellie stopped in her weeding to look up at the old witcher. His fiery eyes had turned wistful and full of memories. She felt a swell of sadness and wondered again how old he _actually_ was. Suddenly, her personal project meant a great deal more.

‘What things used to grow here?’ Vesemir blinked, coming out of his trance. 

‘Hellebore, mandrake, white myrtle, wolfsbane to name a few. Anything we could use in our potions or oils really.’ Ellie found she like the gentle rumbling sound of his voice when he explained things to her. There was the air of a natural born teacher about him. 

‘Do they grow around here?’ His mouth quirked up. 

‘Some do. I could make you a map of where they’re located if you like?’ Ellie stood up, dusting off her trousers.

‘Not afraid I’ll run away?’ This provoked a hearty chuckle from the old witcher. 

‘My child, if you can find your way alone out of this valley in winter then you deserve to escape.’ He left that ominous comment hovering over her as he walked away. The snow clouds rolling in once more, highlighting his point. 

Within a few days, Ellie had cleared the herb garden to her satisfaction. Vesemir materialised out of nowhere as she pulled the last weed, as if he’s been waiting for her. He handed her a folded piece of parchment and a thick woollen cloak with a wink, and left her once more. As she donned the cloak and scanned the map of the valley, serval dark crosses with scrawled text marked it in certain areas, Ellie couldn’t help think if this was another test from the old man and what it would take for her to pass this time.

* * *

‘Wolfsbane, wolfsbane, where the fuck is the wolfsbane?’ Ellie muttered to herself, trudging through the thin layer of snow on the forest floor. According to both Eskel and Vesemir, the real Kaer Morhen winter hadn’t quite hit them yet, but she was certain she’d never been anywhere colder. She wrapped the cloak a little more firmly around her and scanned the ground for any sign of its distinct purple flower. 

The list Vesemir had given her included all the herbs that were hardy enough to still flower and grow in the cold months, so finding them so far hadn’t been that much of an issue. It felt nice to get out of the keep, despite its size it still felt cramped at times with all those witchers and occasionally visiting sorceresses. The map had kept her in a five-mile radius of the keep, so she always had a way to get back. Evidently Vesemir didn’t trust her enough not to get lost.

Scrambling on top of a boulder to get a better vantage point, she felt the samples she had already collected jostle and bump together. _Damn,_ she thought as she checked the satchel she had borrowed from Eskel. Thankfully, they had all survived her lapse in care, the bulbs carefully wrapped in cloth. She had managed to find everything the old witcher had marked down for her, except the elusive wolfsbane. 

A flash of movement between the trees caught her attention. She hadn’t encountered any creatures yet, which was surprising considering the amount of noise they made every night. Her senses jumped into high alert and she listened for any sign of attack. Silence filled the pine forest, the sound of the wind bending the tall trees, their trunks creaking and cracking above her. She was about to pass it off as a trick of the light when there was the sound of metal on metal and an ear-splitting roar. 

Leaping down off the boulder, Ellie weaved through the trees, moving towards the disturbance. In all likelihood, she should probably be going in the other direction. The constant night time chorus of the various creatures around here being anything to go by. However, she had been cooped up in that keep for nearly a month now, and the temptation to see another fantastic monster was too much for her to resist.

As she got closer she could make out heavy footsteps in the snow, accompanied by loud grunts of excursion and screeches of pain. Coming to the edge of the pine forest, Ellie could now see two figures dancing on the mountainside, one of them was something resembling a dragon. A large, scaly winged beast, its talons extended, its large toothy maw snapping at the other figure. A leather amour clad man, with long white hair, his sliver sword flashing in the sun. Ellie paused, watching cautiously as Geralt circled the lizard monster. It whipped out its tail, revealing the wickedly sharp barbs at its tip. They whistled past Geralt’s head, the witcher ducking in time to miss the lethal blow. Before the monster could reposition from the jagged rock face it had perched on for its attack, Geralt lunged, slicing the creature from sternum to jawline in one fluid movement. 

It let out a scream of pain, dark purple blood gushing from the wound. Then the scream died, turning into a hissing wheeze and the creature collapsed in an awkward heap at the witcher’s feet. Sheathing his sword and with his back to where Ellie was stood watching, Geralt turned his head slightly, his amber eyes standing out in his too pale face.

‘You going to come out, or keep snooping from the shadows?’ Ellie felt herself tense, unsure whether to respond or not. It seemed hard to believe that he had managed to catch her approach while fighting that thing, but from what she had learnt so far about witchers, they were often unbelievable. 

‘I haven’t got all day demon.’ 

Geralt’s stern tone jolted Ellie forward, her feet shuffling through the snow towards him like she’d been caught doing something wrong. There was a part of her that would’ve preferred to be alone with the now dead lizard monster than the hostile witcher. She stopped a few feet from him and the corpse, its blood melting the snow around it. Shuffling awkwardly for a moment, she fought for something to break the tense silence. The witcher still looking at her over his shoulder, his posture far from relaxed. 

‘What was that?’ She finally managed, doing a good job of not letting her voice crack. There was something about the white-haired wolf that made her uneasy and poised for an attack at any moment. The only thing that kept her from running was the knowledge that Lambert trusted him, and hadn’t told her to keep her distance at any point. He shifted so he was facing her. His expression was infuriatingly unreadable. 

‘A forktail.’ He replied simply, as if that was enough to answer all her questions.

She eyed the dead thing’s vicious looking tail, and whether due to nerves or just the absurdity of the situation, Ellie couldn’t stop the snort escaping her nose. ‘More like _knife_ tail.’

Geralt gave her an odd look, then miraculously the corners of his mouth turned up and he let out a gruff chuckle. ‘Not bad.’ 

She felt a strange thrill at his sudden joviality, and she was a little more comfortable in his company as he began to dissect the forktail with mechanical precision. ‘Were you out here hunting that?’ 

Geralt didn’t slow in his task as he answered her. ‘Pretty much. Yen wanted the spinal fluid for something she’s working on, and I could use the extra blood.’ He straightened up, stuffing some vials into his satchel. A pang of regret twisted her gut at the waste of such a beast, but such was the nature of life. She could save every monster in this world from a witcher’s blade. He glanced down at her, his eyes sweeping over her own bag. ‘What about you?’ 

‘Oh, um, I’m collecting samples to plant in the herb garden back at the keep. Vesemir gave me a map.’ She added, holding up the offending article as if she needed to excuse her sudden freedom. Geralt stared at the piece of parchment, his expression as stoic as ever, although Ellie could have sworn there was the faintest trace of humour dancing in his amber cat eyes.

‘Hmm. Surprised Vesemir let you leave.’ Ellie’s breath caught in her throat. Her stomach dropping at the assumption he was upset she was wandering around the valley unguarded. She half expected him to grab her and start dragging her back to the keep. Instead, his mouth turned up into a full smile, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. ‘Don’t think I’ve seen him so besotted with one of our guests before. Although you’re the first to help him with his reconstruction project. The keep’s never looked better.’ 

She felt her breathing return to normal. The unexpected friendliness from her previously number one challenger making her smile up at him in response. ‘It keeps me busy.’ She said.

Geralt raised an eyebrow at her incredulously, before turning and heading off down the mountainside. She watched him walk away, unsure what to do now, then realising she wasn’t behind him Geralt stopped and jerked his head, indicating for her to follow. They walked in uncomfortable silence, the sound of their feet crunching through the snow impossibly loud in the absence of any talking. After a while, she felt his eyes on her again, then his gruff, almost embarrassed voice broke the tension. 

‘You know…I should apologise for the way I was when we met.’ A long pause. ‘I haven’t come across many of your kind, and those I have…well, let’s say I didn’t intend on repeating the experience.’ 

‘When did you meet a demon, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Geralt didn’t respond right away, and when he still hadn’t said anything after a few more steps she looked at him. ‘Call it…professional curiosity.’ 

He let out a snort, his eyes glinting with humour again. Ellie had learnt, out of the three of them, he was the least open with his personality. Eskel was a gentle hearted warrior, Lambert a spiky ball of resentment, but Geralt…he was hard to read. ‘I found myself indebted to one when he saved my life. Wanted to use me to collect a debt on another man foolish enough to fall for his charms.’ 

Ellie scanned Geralt for any trace of a mark. Aside from the two scars on his face, there was nothing obvious to suggest he was still bound to the demon he was talking about. ‘And did you collect?’ She asked, keeping her voice carefully nonchalant. 

‘I refused. Chose instead to face the demon myself and drive him away.’ This time she raised an eyebrow. 

‘Impressive. How did you manage that?’ Geralt halted, his eyes fixing on her as he finished his tale.

‘I beat him at his own game. The man liked games of the mind, posed as a mirror salesman to most people. Like to trick them into signing their souls away for whatever he was peddling. I cracked one of his riddles and sent him back to wherever he came from.’ A moment of uneasy tension manifested between them. She could tell Geralt was trying to read into her reaction, as likewise she was trying to discern if he was telling the truth. She may not have come to know Geralt like the other witchers, but as far as she knew he wasn’t one to lie. Letting out a long breath, the air misting in a stream in front of her, she folded her arms and gave him an appraising look.

‘Colour me impressed. Breaking a contract with a demon is tricky, especially the ones that tend to like making contracts in the first place.’ Geralt nodded noncommittally, and she could tell he was done sharing for the moment. They continued on until they reached the road leading back to the keep, the gentle afternoon snowfall beginning to turn and thicken. ‘Damn it, I still had to find one more plant before coming back.’ Ellie muttered, glaring down at her map. Leaning over her shoulder Geralt took the barest glimpse of the parchment, then pointed a little way up the track. 

‘You can usually find wolfsbane growing on an outcrop up there. Here, I’ll show you.’ And without any further discussion, the white-haired witcher took her map and began to walk ahead off into the trees. Ellie blinked in bemusement, then a thought came to her.

‘This isn’t a plan to get me lost and bury me under the snow, is it?’ Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth she felt stupid. The witcher stopped and turned back, giving her that odd look again. 

‘Hmm.’ Was all he said by way of reply, but before he turned away she saw his mouth split into a grin. Feeling her own face responding in a similar fashion, Ellie hurried after him, the satchel of already collected herbs bouncing against her legs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, another week another chapter. This one is a lot longer than last week. You see, I make up for it at some points. XD


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

‘All I’m saying is the longer you leave it, the more the tension is getting to _all_ of us, not just you.’ 

Lambert glared daggers at Eskel. The older witcher didn’t even glance up from his sword as he rubbed oil into it diligently. ‘He’s right. The Lambert I know would never sulk and mope about some girl. He’d make a move and damn the consequences.’ 

This time Lambert kicked out at the white haired witcher who had just spoken. Infuriatingly, Geralt moved his legs easily out of his reach, causing him to nearly fall off the bench they were sat on. 

‘Who asked you?’

Geralt looked at the younger witcher askance. ‘I thought you were discussing your love life with us, so…you did.’ Lambert ground his teeth together.

‘No…Eskel started this conversation on his own. As per usual, I don’t need your advice on bedding women or anything related to it. So kindly, fuck off.’ 

Eskel snorted and flicked a knowing look towards Geralt. Lambert could hear his blood beginning to pound in his ears. ‘The girl’s not interested in me. She told me so. I may be an ass but I at least have the common decency to respect a women’s wishes. Unlike _some_ I know.’ He Jutted his chin out and gave Geralt a pointed look. 

Far from rising to his antagonistic tone his brothers sighed in unison, Eskel shaking his head sadly. ‘She _is_ interested. Anyone with half a brain and eyes can see that. Every time you walk by she looks up and stares after you like some love sick whelp. Honestly, it’s kind of annoying seeing you two stubborn children avoid each other.’

Lambert felt a twinge of pain in his chest. Had she really been watching him? But she was the one that had wanted to keep things ‘civil’, whatever the fuck that meant. ‘Why don’t you harass her as well then? Why pick on just me?’ 

Eskel rolled his eyes dramatically. ‘Because you’re the man and I don’t know her like I know you. I can tell when you’re hiding from yourself brother. I’ve seen you do it before.’ He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. Lambert felt his face flush with quiet outrage, his eyes flashing a warning at Eskel’s threat. Why had he even told his brother about Aiden? He wasn’t even sure he’d understand, and now he was using him as a weapon in his argument to convince him to get with a half demon. Man, his love life was one giant fuck up.

‘Drop it Eskel.’ He growled out through clenched teeth. ‘If you’re so invested in her happiness, why don’t you just ask her out yourself?’ He’d meant it as a barbed come back. His usual method of stopping a conversation he didn’t like, but when he looked at his scarred brother’s face he saw a flicker of longing and sadness that made his stomach twist uncomfortably. He’d known Blue eyes and Eskel had been getting closer, especially since they were barely talking now, but he had never seen Eskel as anything other than friendly towards her. Had he been missing the cues altogether?

Now a cold well of fear and jealous began to bubble up inside of him. The uncaring, aloof mask he had been wearing since his and Blue eyes’ awkward conversation in the storage room slipping ever so slightly.

‘What do you suggest I do? Can’t exactly wine and dine her in this crappy old place.’ Eskel’s mouth tipped up in a triumphant smirk, but Lambert could see now it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

‘Geralt manages it fine.’ He said. Geralt gave Eskel a tired look before focusing back on cleaning his sword. 

‘Yeah, well. Geralt has, you know…Geralt. I need a lot of distraction to take away from all of this.’ Lambert gestured to himself dismissively. ‘Or a bag of coin, but I don’t think Blue eyes would appreciate that.’ 

Eskel made a small noise of irritation, then punched Lambert hard on the arm. ‘Hey! What the fuck!?’ 

‘Stop down playing yourself jackass. Ellie doesn’t want anything fancy, she’ll be fine with just you. No distraction, no _coin_ , just your stupid face and charming wit.’ Lambert narrowed his eyes at his brother, unsure whether Eskel was being serious. There was no trace of humour in the other witcher’s face, only frank honesty.

‘He’s right. Just show her something you enjoy doing here…take her fishing.’ Geralt didn’t even look up from his sword as he spoke, so it took Lambert a moment to connect the helpful, completely sober comment to the white haired witcher. A wave of awkwardness suddenly consumed him, and he rubbed a hand on the back of his head as he processed their words. 

‘Fishing? You think she’d like that?’

‘Yes!’ His brothers said in unison. Their eyes now fixed on him, exasperation clear in their voices. 

‘I’ll think about it.’ Lambert finally muttered after a long pause, turning his attention back to his own sword. The sudden emotional honesty making him want to end this discussion and go back to talking about forktails or some other witcher shit. 

‘Well, hurry up about, yeah. Or I might just get in before you.’ Eskel tone was jovial and teasing, but now he was aware of it Lambert could definitely hear the genuine threat there. 

* * *

It took him three days in the end to build up the courage to approach her. He found Blue eyes in her new favourite place, the herb garden she was renovating for Vesemir. As he walked towards the walled off patch of earth he could smell her scent on the wind. Over time he found the previously overwhelming stench of sulphur and farm animals easier to filter out, now he could barely smell them, only the fresh, warm scent of wet earth and grass hit him now. Subconsciously, he took in a deep breath, letting her scent wash over his tongue. He wondered idly if she tasted like rain too. Heat flooded to his face as he quickly pushed the thought to one side. _Best not to get too ahead of yourself,_ he thought. 

She was kneeling on the hard, frost packed ground, her hands gently pushing down around a clump of mandrake leaves. He stood awkwardly watching her for a moment, her brown hair half tied back like usual, strands of it drifting in the wind. Her brow furrowed and her tongue partially stuck out of her pink lips as she concentrated. He thought about getting her attention, but a part of him enjoyed watching her brush some of the loose soil off her hands, stroking a caring finger along one of the leaves of the mandrake.

As she sat back on her heels she noticed him hovering on the other side of the low wall. The crease cleared from between her eyebrows and her face split into a broad grin. Despite his reservations Lambert felt his heart skip at the sight of her automatic joy in seeing him. Then the grin faded and he saw the clouds of uncertainty drift over those azure blue eyes of hers.

‘Hey…everything alright?’ She asked, her voice as uncertain as her expression. 

‘Yeah, everything’s fine.’ He said, shifting from foot to foot. His limbs seemingly alive with nervous energy. Blue eyes cocked her head to one side, that adorable fucking crease appearing again. 

‘Then what’s up?’ 

‘I was just coming to see…I wanted to say…maybe, if you’re not busy doing whatever it is you’re doing here…I wondered if you’d like….fuck it all, what are you doing here?’

She blinked up at him for a moment, unsure what to make of his awkward, stuttered outburst, then slowly rose to her feet. 

‘I’m gardening.’ She replied slowly, as if talking to an idiot. Which he supposed he was if he were being honest. He had wanted to ask her, he had tried, but something had tied his tongue up in knots. If he wanted a person he usually walked up to them and told them so. Then either copious amounts of alcohol or money landed them in his bed. With her, he found himself unable to get his words out, and unsure as to what would get her to like him. He didn’t just want to sleep with her for fucks sake, he wanted to…he wanted to…what _did_ he want exactly?

‘Why?’ He asked abruptly. The inner turmoil he was wrestling with making his tone sharper than he would’ve liked. Blue eyes flinched slightly at his tone and he felt his heart sink. Already on a losing streak Lambert. Fucking great.

‘I _like_ it’. She said simply.

‘If you say so, just don’t see the appeal of scratching around in the dirt all day like a hen.’ She gave him an odd look for a moment, and he had that familiar feeling of waiting for the rejection. The person he was talking to often turning away in disgust or offence at his rude attitude. But Blue eyes, in her typically weird fashion, did none of the above. Instead she laughed. Long and hard, her head thrown back, the high peels of her laughter ringing out across the yard. Lambert didn’t know what to do. He had made her chuckle in the past but only Eskel had managed to provoke that kind of response from her. He felt a warm glow in his chest, and a small answering smile stretched across his face as she gradually caught her breath.

‘Did you just call me a chicken?’ She said between gasps. He shrugged, the smile still there.

‘Maybe. But seriously though, you don’t have to do all this to get on Vesemir’s good side. He already loves you for fixing that shitty eastern wall. Do you even know how long he was trying to repair that thing?’ 

‘I’m not doing this for Vesemir. I told you, I like gardening. It makes me happy, doesn’t anything make you happy?’ Lambert felt a little light headed from their conversation. It was the longest they had spoken in weeks and he was giddy with it. He had forgotten just how _good_ she made him feel. How…normal. For an instant he nearly forgot himself and said _she_ was what made him happy. Instead he blurted out, ‘Fishing.’

Blue eyes held back a laugh, he could see it shining in her eyes. Then she composes herself and nodded sagely. ‘Of course, I’ve seen you going to the lake practically every day after drills.’ Eskel had been right, she’d been watching him. A long pause grew between them, neither one sure how to talk to the other anymore. Eventually Blue eyes turned to survey her work, her hands resting lightly on her hips. ‘Looking after plants makes me happy. Ever since I became…well, me, animals don’t tend to like me much. At least this way I can care for something that can’t run away.’ 

She wasn’t facing him, but Lambert could hear the sadness. He didn’t respond, knowing he’d say the wrong thing so instead he ran his eye over the herb garden she had so painstakingly restored. The once overgrown dirt patch was now arranged in neat lines, a simple stone path running between beds of mandrake, wolfsbane, white myrtle and hellebore shrubs. She had gone to some lengths to gather the plants from around Kaer Morhen and now they were safely nestled in the tiny stone walled garden. She had even packed straw around the base of each of them to protect them from the worst of the snow. He had to admit, it looked good. 

His eyes drifted to the girl next to him, and he realised he had moved so they were stood side by side. He knew why he had come here, and his brothers’ words echoed in his head but now he was stood near her, smelling her and watching that little crease, he found his nerve wavering. She would only reject him again, she would tell him to leave her alone. That he repulsed her. However, he couldn’t help thinking that maybe, just maybe, she only told him that the first time because she was afraid he’d run away. Like those animals.

‘You want to come fishing with me?’ He found his mouth was moving even before he’d come to the decision to say it. ‘Like, now.’ Blue eyes turned her head slowly to look at him, the clouds of uncertainty gathering for an instance before clearing altogether leaving behind a brilliant summer sky.

‘Sure.’ 

* * *

Ellie wasn’t precisely sure what she was doing, or why she had agreed to this, but she was practically skipping down the tricky path Lambert was leading her down. It felt good, just the two of them, like old times. 

The sky was clear, the clouds distant and wispy, no threat of snow. A great expanse of blue, the winter sun shining down on them making Ellie smile widely as she skipped up behind Lambert. It was still breath-takingly cold, the bright sunshine and gentle breeze not doing anything to take the ice out of the air. The ground was hard and slightly slick with frost and snow, although it still hadn’t quite managed to form a blanket on the earth just yet. The raging winds and sporadic rainstorms dealt with that. They had to be nearly in mid-winter by now though, so it was only going to get colder. The thought worried her a little.

They hadn’t spoken since she had agreed to come along with him. He had turned without another word and started walking off the way he always did when going to the lake. He had been a little abrupt with his request, and to anyone unfamiliar with the spiky witcher it would have appeared rude, but she had noticed a slight wobble in his voice as he spoke and could have sworn his face was just a bit redder than usual as he turned away. The silence between them now wasn’t awkward however, on the contrary it was comfortable, almost calming.

As she came up beside him, she stole a quick glance at his face and was stunned to find him smiling. It was a rare sight indeed to not see a frown or a sneer on that expressive face of his, and she was reminded of the time she had watched him sleeping. He looked younger, more handsome. Her stomach squeezed tightly. 

Their breath misted in front of them as they descended down the rocky path leading away from the keep. They were weaving their way through tall pine trees perched precariously on the edge of the sheer grey cliffs that Kaer Morhen was built out of. Every now and then Ellie caught a glimpse through the trunks and branches of the lake, its surface calm in the still wind, a glass mirror reflecting the sun back in brilliant refractions. Her heart swelled with excitement each time she saw it. She had never been fishing before, and had no idea what to do, but the thought of sailing out onto that perfect expanse of water made her think of home.

As they were nearing the bank of the lake, the pine trees giving way to long grass and boggy ground when a loud screeching came from above them. Ellie took a reflexive step to the side, her head snapping up to the skies. In her distracted state she collided with Lambert’s shoulder. He let out a low huff but didn’t move away from her, instead he wrapped an arm around her to keep her still.

‘It’s just a harpy. It won’t bother us if we don’t move.’ She could feel his voice rumbling in his chest and she was painfully aware of the heat rolling off his body even in the freezing climate. Glancing up she saw a dark flash of feathers and pale skin, then the rushing snap of flapping wings receded into the distance, disappearing over the ridge of grey stone they had just clambered down.

‘See. All good.’ Lambert said in a low voice, before slowly releasing her from his grasp. Ellie’s throat suddenly felt very dry, and for the first time since leaving with him a seed of fear took root. He gave her an impassive look then continued on towards the lake and a small wood hut that was on the bank. 

_Just a friendly outing, we’re just friends._ Ellie repeated to herself as she followed behind him. But even she didn’t really believe it.

‘All aboard.’ Lambert said, untying a thick rope from the dock shooting off from the hut. Her eyes ran along its length until they came to rest on a small sail boat, bobbing on the clear water. It looked a little weather beaten, and there were some holes in the sail but Ellie found herself grinning uncontrollably as she looked at it.

‘She’s beautiful. Does she have a name?’ Lambert looked briefly taken aback, then that genuine smile that she was growing to love stretched across his face.

‘Clarissa.’ His voice was soft as he said the name, and Ellie gave him a curious look. 

‘That’s a lovely name. Shame Horse didn’t get the same treatment.’ All at once the smile retreated and that famous scowl returned to his face.

‘His name is Whoreson. And a boat and a horse are two _very_ different things.’ He tugged on the rope a little too harshly, causing ‘Clarissa’ to jerk towards him on the water. Gripping the edge, he lowered it and indicated for Ellie to get in. Stifling a chuckle, she obliged, secretly relieved to have diffused the suddenly very emotional atmosphere between them. The boat rocked slightly as she settled herself on the wooden bench away from the tiller, and rocked even more when Lambert pulled himself in. She may have never gone fishing but she’d been on plenty of boats, mainly due to the fact that Purgatory was surrounded water. An island of buildings floating in an endless sea. 

The scowl was still fixed on the witcher’s face as he cast off. Unfurling the sail and steering the little boat out into the calm waters of the lake. The world seemed to open up around them as the skimmed the glass like surface, the sky reflected perfectly in it so it felt like they were flying. As the wind whipped around her Ellie felt the grin growing on her face. Even the ice-cold temperature couldn’t dampen her spirits, and the further out they got the more the harsh lines disappeared from Lambert’s face until he was almost smiling again. 

The lake was still untouched by the effects of winter. The landscape around it was a patchwork of dark earth and brilliant snowdrifts, turning into a solid white tundra the further up the mountains it got. ‘This will freeze over in the next week or so.’ Lambert said, seemingly reading Ellie’s mind. ‘Then there’ll be no more fish until spring.’

They were practically in the centre of the lake as he let off the sail and brought them to a slow, drifting halt. Producing a small iron anchor from beneath his seat he tossed it over the side with a splash, and busied himself with the leather satchel he’d brought along. Ellie watched him in puzzlement, an oddity in this image suddenly dawning on her.

‘Where’s your rod?’ Lambert paused in his rummaging, and gave her stone faced look, but one eyebrow twitched up in a lewd motion. With a huff of frustrated embarrassment, she reached over the side and sent a wave of freezing lake water at him. He grinned as he ducked easily out of the worst of it, only a few drops managing to reach their target. ‘You know what I mean. Get your mind out of the gutter.’ 

He straightened up on his seat again, his grin turning wolfish. ‘But my dear, that’s where my mind always is.’ 

‘Don’t I know it…pervert.’ Ellie said under her breath, but she was grinning too. Putting the satchel away Lambert bounced something small and round in the palm of one hand. 

‘I don’t use a fishing rod. No time for that, plus this way is more fun.’ Frowning, she tried to piece together what he meant, then she got a better view of the object he was now flipping casually from hand to hand and her muscles tensed. 

‘Is that a bomb?’

‘Yep.’ He replied sunnily, lighting the fuse deflty with his thumb and forefinger, and lobbing it over arm away from the boat and into the still waters of the lake. Ellie ducked down instinctually, gripping the wooden seat she was on in some hope of remaining onboard. She kept her eyes trained on where the bomb landed with a quiet plop in the water, a few lazy ripples the only sign of disturbance for half a second. Then a tremendous roaring sound erupted from beneath them, the glass surface of the lake shattering in a geyser of churning white foam about twenty feet in front of them. The little boat rocked wildly in the wake of the explosion, but mercifully didn’t capsize. 

There was a beat of silence as the water settled back into its original form, although Ellie’s ears were ringing enthusiastically, and not from anyone using magic in her vicinity. ‘What…the fuck…are you doing?’ She finally said, giving Lambert an equal parts disbelieving and outraged stare. He simply smirked down at her, in that classically Lambert way he did.

‘Fishing.’ He said, by way of reply, and leant over to retrieve another bomb from his bag.

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa. Doesn’t this method just turn the fish into paste?’ He shook his head, bouncing the new bomb in his palm again.

‘Just stuns them. You’ll see in a second.’ With that he pointed out to where he had thrown his first projectile. The water was still dancing crazily from the unexpected excitement, the ripples slowly reducing in size as she watched. Sure enough, just as the water had all but stopped several oblong silver bodies bobbed to the surface. Perfectly intact and completely motionless.

‘Huh.’ She said.

‘See. You try.’ Lambert said, leaning towards her to pass her the bomb. As she took it in a daze, their fingers brushed. In all the commotion Ellie hadn’t noticed him remove his leather gloves and the unexpected contact of warm skin against her own made her flinch back. There was a flash of hurt in his amber eyes but it quickly vanished, his expression rearranging into a stoic mask, the flushed excitement of a few moments before gone. 

Guilt and shame washed over Ellie as she palmed the smooth metal sphere now in her hand. She hadn’t meant to offend him. It was just the spark of warmth his skin had caused was still pulsing like a burn on her hand even now. _This is dangerous, you shouldn’t be here…alone…with him._

Even as her mind screamed the warning she smiled brightly at the witcher, and turned to choose a spot to throw the bomb. She may want to keep things civil, but that didn’t include making him unhappy. Putting that smile back on his face was now her only concern. 

‘Where should I throw it?’ She asked, scanning the water. 

‘Try a different place. The fish tend to clear an area once I’ve set off a bomb.’ His voice was monotone and Ellie felt her chest constrict. 

‘I can’t imagine why.’ She shot cheekily at him, giving him a quick grin over her shoulder. She was rewarded with a small twitch of his mouth, but nothing more. 

‘Make sure you throw it a good distance away, don’t want to have to fish _you_ out of the lake.’ As he said this he leant forward again and pinched the dormant fuse between thumb and forefinger. This close Ellie saw the brief orange spark generated simply out of nowhere, igniting the fuse and setting it flickering. Making a small fearful noise, she stood up and quickly wound her arm back, launching the bomb off the opposite side of the boat. 

It somersaulted gracefully away from her, the fuse an intermittent flash of light as it rotated. Then, with a subdued splash it disappeared into the lake. This time Ellie stayed upright, watching the water carefully. A thrill of anticipation shot up her spine, and she could feel the static energy coalescing around her fingertips subconsciously in her excitement. When the explosion finally came she held her balance, moving her knees in rhythm with the rocking boat. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lambert doing the same, his eyes fixed on the funnel of water that had shot up. 

A broad grin stretched across her face, and she jigged up and down clapping her hands like a child. ‘That _was_ fun.’

Lambert looked at her in alarm as she danced on the spot, gripping the mast to keep upright. ‘Easy, easy, you’ll bash a hole through the hull doing that.’ He sounded irritated but the smile she had managed to chase away with her unthinking reaction returned slowly at first, and then fully as she continued to jump up and down. 

‘I’m serious Blue eyes, fucking stop leaping around.’ There was noticeable laughter in his voice now as he made a grab for her, attempting to hold her in place. Ellie felt the band of guilt that constricted her release and she felt giddy with joy. 

‘Another.’ She demanded, sounding more like her little brother with each passing second.

‘There’ll be no fish at this rate, but who am I to deny a pretty girl her wish.’ Lambert gave her a sly wink as he rooted around in his satchel for another bomb. Ellie felt her cheeks flare with heat. It was the first time he had openly flirted with her and that tiny seed of fear dug its roots in further. _Just friends._

The voice of warning in her head was still there, but it was getting quieter the longer she spent out on the lake. Even though she knew keeping her distance from Lambert was for the best, she had missed him. It was as if a hole had been punched in her chest and every time she’d seen him walk by and ignore her the hole had been ripped a little bigger. Now there was almost no evidence of a hole ever being there, and she gripped the side of the boat in excitement as he lit the third bomb and threw it out over the water.

‘Bombs away!’ She yelled as it soared over head. Lambert grinned down at her.

‘You’re weird.’ He said, though there was a fondness in his voice and a warmth in his eyes that made her stomach clench. The seed swelled in her gut but she was having too much fun now to pay it any mind.

Boom! The lake erupted again. This time the bomb had landed closer, and a curtain of cold water splattered down on the boat. Ellie screamed and laughed loudly. Holding her hands above her and shutting her eyes as the water hit her eyelids like tiny ice shards. 

‘Shit.’ She heard Lambert curse over her jubilant cries. ‘That was a bit too close.’ She opened her eyes a crack and saw the witcher shaking his arms, water droplets scattering. His dark hair was damp and flattened to his forehead in a messy tangle. Ellie snorted and flicked one of her arms so more water cascaded over him. ‘Cut it out.’ He snapped, although his expression was soft and there was no real force behind it. 

‘Sorry.’ Ellie chuckled, settling down on the partially wet seat again. 

‘Let’s gather what we’ve got. Should be enough to keep us all fed until summer at this rate.’ Ellie felt her heart sinking at the thought of the trip ending already. It had been a long time since she’d laughed this much, and she could have sworn Lambert looked just as reluctant as he made to pull the sail up again. 

‘Wait.’ She said, Lambert paused, confusion on his face. ‘Let me try something.’

He watched with slightly narrowed eyes as she leant over the side of the boat, the edge of it dipping towards the water. Tentatively she held out her hands, fingers spread. There was still some residual energy crackling between the tips of them. Delicate blue lines making them glow. Concentrating, she began to draw on the energy in the air. There were no clouds and she didn’t want to summon a full-on thunderstorm, just enough electricity to shock something. The air around her started to heat, the taste of it metallic on her tongue which was poking out of her mouth. She could hear the crackling, snap of electricity coming from her hands now, and what had been a few faint sparks was now a glowing web of energy. She waited for her arms to feel alive with contained power, then plunged her hands into the icy water.

All at once the surface of the lake seemed to glow with the same vibrant blue light that had surrounded her hands. There was a muted crackling, like lightning striking below them, then the air cleared, the acrid smell of burnt ozone the only thing left behind. It took a moment longer than when they’d used the bombs, but eventually the glassy surface was suddenly filled with hundreds of stunned fish of all sizes.

‘Holy fucking shit Blue eyes.’ Lambert remarked, staring in disbelief at the bounty she had just yielded.

‘Don’t worry. That wasn’t enough to get _every_ fish in the lake.’

‘Sure, just _most_ of them.’ He sat down next to her, his head swivelling as he took in the carnage. ‘Remind me never to piss you off.’ She nudged him playfully by way of reply, but he gave her a guarded look and they lapsed into sudden silence.

Ellie’s mouth was abruptly dry and she didn’t know where to put her hands. She had been worried that this would happen if she were alone with him, but in her head the awkward silence had come very early on in their outing. Not whilst they were stranded in the middle of a large lake together. Unsure what to do she opted for looking at the view, anything to keep her away from that devastating, fiery gaze. For the first time she noticed she could see the keep from out here. The tiny toy sized grey walls and crumbling towers perched high up on the mountain side. The sun was haloed around it, and a number of birds wheeled around in the azure blue of the sky. She felt a comforting sort of warmth spread through her chest at the sight. A feeling of home almost. 

‘Why do you hate it so much?’ She found herself saying, breaking the tense silence. Lambert didn’t reply straight away and she found she was afraid to look at him. Finally, he shifted next to her, a quiet sigh escaping him.

‘It’s full of crappy memories.’

Ellie let out a sigh. She could hear the scowl in his voice even without looking. ‘Homes sometimes are, but there are good memories too. What about growing up with your brothers, that must have been nice.’ Lambert snorted behind her. 

‘I doubt they’d describe their time with me as _nice_.’ The bitterness in his voice made her turn to look at him. He was glaring up at the keep, his mouth pulled into a thin line. It didn’t make sense, his resentment towards the other witchers when she had seen the concern and understanding they had for him.

‘They do care about you though. I certainly do.’ Another snort, his eyes moved from Kaer Morhen to settle on her.

‘You’re kind of the exception to the rule Blue eyes.’ She frowned.

‘What do you mean?’ He regarded her for a moment, weighing up whether to answer her. 

‘I’ve resented everything and everyone since I became a witcher, and I think after a while people just learnt to resent me back. I don’t know if you noticed this, but people tend to avoid me. Even you.’ Ellie felt herself recoil as he had slapped her. She hadn’t avoided him, not intentionally. Her only thought had been in keeping him safe. If she had sought out his company every day, the chances of that happening would have been slim to none. But he had thought…

‘Lambert…’. She said, unsure how to explain. He stared at her, his expression set in its old mask of arrogant defiance. It was there she finally saw it, the boy he’d been before the witcher. Hiding behind his snark and bitterness, pushing everyone away…like her. Suddenly she didn’t want to explain, she wanted to listen instead.

‘Tell me.’ She said, her eyes wide as she leant into him. Reflexively he moved back, wary. 

‘Tell you what?’ 

‘How you became a witcher.’ For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer. That she had asked for something taboo. Then he began to talk.

‘I had a shit start in life. I was born into poverty; my father was a drunk who beat me and my mother senseless every night. We prayed for release from his tyranny, but the gods are cruel and hard of hearing. Instead of relieving us of him, they saved him and then used me as payment.’ Ellie didn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt but her brow furrowed at Lambert’s cryptic story. He paused, noticing her puzzlement and sighed, long and hard. 

‘In this world there is a law. A law that allows those who have earned a favour to take possession of someone’s most valued property. They don’t get to choose the prize, destiny does it for them. It’s known as the law of surprise. My father got blind drunk one night and ran into a nekker’s nest. He would have died, and good riddance, except he was rescued…by a witcher.’ 

‘”Give me the first thing you see when you get home.” The witcher said and my father agreed. I was traded for the life of that drunken bastard. _My_ choice was taken away by the one person I despised most in this world. Needless to say, I didn’t relish being towed off by a stranger, brought to this draughty keep and put through hell to be turned into…a freak. A mutant. Spat at and shunned, a child stealing witcher.’ He spat out the last words angrily, and Ellie felt herself recoiling automatically at the venom in his voice. She wanted to reach out and tell him it was okay. That life sometimes chose for you, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have a choice. As she looked at him though, she found the words dying on her lips. There was too much pain and resentment for a simple phrase and caring touch to help.

‘You know, at points I thought about ending it. About taking my own life, but that would’ve meant the bastard won. That he broke me down to nothing and fuck if I’m going to give him that as well.’ Lambert looked down at his hands which were clasped in his lap. ‘I went back after I was changed, to find him. The house looked the same, but he looked older. I couldn’t see my mother; she may have died, or by some miracle got away from him. I didn’t stay to find out. I showed him what I had become and got my revenge. That was all I cared about at the time.’

He lapsed into silence. The boat swayed gently on the lake, the distant cries of the birds echoing off the mountains. Ellie watched him, his head was bowed, his hands still clasped, as if in prayer. 

‘Did it help?’ She said, breaking the silence. Lambert looked up, his expression hard.

‘Maybe. It made me feel better for a while. Did you ever get _your_ revenge? On the ones that killed your family?’

She tensed. She had never really talked about the after math of that moment with anyone. Not even Solomon. ‘I did.’ She said slowly.

Lambert inclined his head. ‘Good. I’m glad.’ 

‘What about your mother? Did you ever look for her?’ She wasn’t sure if he’d noticed her changing the subject, but he looked at her askance before answering.

‘I guess I was too scared. If she’s alive, I want her to remember me how I was. Not what I’ve become.’ His eyes flicked down to his hands again and Ellie saw the look of a lost, sad boy. 

‘You’re a good person.’ She said softly. Her chest constricting at the miserable set of his shoulders.

‘No. I’m not. I kill and I fuck and I drink. I’m as bad as him. I tried to kill you…twice. Sometimes I think about that you know. I lie awake and think about what would everything be like if you _could_ die, and I’d completed that contract.’

She shuffled close to him on the seat, the boat rocking from the movement. ‘It might have made things easier.’ 

‘Things would’ve still been shit. _I’m_ shit.’ 

‘Lambert…’. She said, her hand moving of its own accord to rest tenderly on his cheek. She knew she’d made a mistake the second his eyes lifted to hers. The atmosphere around then shifted in an instant. It was suddenly humming with electricity, and not the kind she could control. The air felt hot and heavy in her lungs, and she took in a shuddering breath as his eyes bored into her. Two flaming pits of affection and desire. She wasn’t certain who moved first, one minute they were sat inches from each other, the next they were in each other’s arms. 

Ellie had imagined kissing him before. In the long, lonely nights in the keep. Her mind would drift to his eyes, his lips, the feel of his hands; but that had only been a daydream, and reality was so much more potent. His hand was in her hair, gripping it and pulling her face to his. The other was wrapped tightly around her waist, pinning her body flush against him. They were the least of her concern however, it was his mouth that had become her main focus. The movement of those full lips against her own, that sucked the air from her lungs and made her feel heavy and light at the same time. 

Her whole body was alive with that strange, intangible electricity that had appeared around them. Her fingers tingling as they ran through his damp, dark hair, along his jawline, over his cheeks. She wasn’t a very experienced kisser, her knowledge in this particular area sadly lacking. Lambert, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was doing. He guided with his mouth, his tongue. Moving her when he wanted to deepen the kiss, running his tongue along her lower lip, making them part for him in a heady gasp. Her brain was muddled, her breathing ragged and when he took her lip between his teeth in a moment of passion, she practically melted into him with a guttural moan. 

Days passed, months, years before a tiny, unwelcome voice finally broke through her blissful stupor. _Too dangerous, remember the others._ Her skin, which had been on fire up until that moment, turned frigid with dread. What was she doing? This was what she’d wanted to avoid. If this continued, if she let herself feel like this, he’d end up dead like all the others. Abruptly, an image of Lambert pale and cold on the ground flashed into her mind, and she pulled away from him with a sharp inhale.

‘What’s wrong?’ He asked. His voice husky, his lips red and swollen. Their foreheads were touching and she tried desperately to free her brain from its fog. The warm scent of cinnamon was filling her nose, making her head swim.

‘Ellie.’ He breathed. Her name on his lips was almost enough for her to give in. To ignore the warning and let herself be consumed by him. Her chest was near to bursting with happiness, but she knew what fate had in store for them if they went down this road. 

‘I can’t do this. Not again.’ She said haltingly. Leaning away, although his hands were still in place, resisting her escape.

‘What do you mean?’ He asked, his voice a little clearer. His expression confused. 

‘I’m sorry.’ She said, the pitch of her voice a high warble as she felt the tears already coming.

She wasn’t sure where she found the strength, but all at once in her desperation to escape this ridiculous situation she had put herself in, she felt the static energy in the air snap into her. Filling her body with enough power to free herself from him. She was out of his grasp and flying across the lake in a burst of electricity before she could think. Her only instinct to put distance between them again…for his sake. 

She knew she was doing the right thing. She may not be able to love him like she wanted to, but at least he would stay alive. As she collided with the bank of the lake, the electric energy that had transported her here in the blink of an eye dissipated, and she began to run, as fast as she could, back up to the keep. 

She didn’t stop to look back, so didn’t see the lonely witcher in the middle of the lake. A dark storm cloud gathering above him in the otherwise crystalline blue sky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, a super long one for your delight this week, and I have a feeling this is one some of you have been waiting a while for. ;P There's a slight lull in the action for a few chapters, just to settle us into some relationship stuff, and then it's all systems go after that. So enjoy it while it lasts. See you all next week. :)


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Two days after the fishing trip, Ellie could still taste him on her lips. After fleeing from the lake, she had returned to the keep and hid in the cells below. It was the only place she could think of that they wouldn’t look for her…and she had been right. She’d cried harder than she had in a long time, alone in the dark. The memory of his hands, his lips, his body against hers torturing her through her unsleeping existence. 

_But this was her choice,_ she kept telling herself as she rocked. The tears blurring her vision, the hole in her chest which he had filled so easily in one afternoon torn open anew until it felt like she was dying all over again. Why had she gone with him? Why had she been so weak? She was a monster that hurt everyone close to her, and witchers killed monsters.

Two days after the fishing trip, Ellie sat in the darkness. The tears had stopped but the hole throbbed still. She had lost most other feeling in her arms and legs from the cold, having come down in the wet clothes she had been in. She was startled out of her miserable stupor by a voice calling her name. It was rough and filled with desperate concern, and for one fleeting moment she felt a dread settle over her. Then the smell of rosemary hit her nose and she felt some of the tension leave her.

Eskel was still calling her name when he appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She could only see him vaguely in the shadows, light not being high on her list of priorities right now. His eyes glowed slightly in the dim light and she heard him curse before a light flared up, suspended above his hand for a moment. He lit the dormant torch sitting in the sconce and glanced around wildly. The cat like pupils of his eyes blown wide as they flicked frantically around the grim dungeon. They spotted her tucked far in the corner of the cell she had originally been put in, the mouldy straw tucked around her like a blanket.

‘Ellie, thank the gods.’ He said, his voice a breathy rush of relief as he shouldered his way into the cell. The door screeching loudly in protest. Squatting down in front of her, his wild eyes scanned her, searching for some kind of injury or clue as to her general state. ‘What are you doing down here? We’ve been looking for you for two days.’ 

She raised her head, not quite meeting his eyes. ‘A keep full of witchers and it took you _two_ days? Sounds like you need some practice.’ The humour she had intended didn’t quite reach her voice, and Eskel only looked more worried as she gave him a weak laugh.

‘El. What happened? We thought you’d got lost. Lambert said you disappeared after you went fishing.’ 

‘Did he?’ She said, her head tilting forward to stare at the worn leather on her knees. 

‘Yeah, he searched for you for the rest of the day and a good way into night. We nearly had to send a search party out for him too.’ 

Ellie felt her face heat up and her eyes sting with the threat of new tears. ‘Did he say what happened? On the lake?’ 

Eskel’s eyes narrowed. ‘No. He wouldn’t. Just cursed at us and told us to mind our own business.’ His tone became serious. ‘What _did_ happen?’ 

She bit her lip, not wanting to burst into ugly tears in front of her friend. He didn’t miss the strangled whimper that came from her despite her best efforts though. He reached out a hand to grip her arm; it was firm but not harsh. ‘Ellie? Did he hurt you?’ When she didn’t answer the grip tightened. ‘I swear to the gods if he hurt you, I’m gonna-‘ 

‘He did nothing.’ She said quickly. Eskel gave her an incredulous look, unconvinced.

‘You don’t have to defend him. Lambert is a jackass, we all know it.’ She reached up and carefully pulled his hand away from her arm.

‘Honestly Eskel. I was the one that hurt him.’ Withdrawing his hand, he rested them on his knees. 

‘Now I _have_ to know what happened? Did you punch him? No, you capsized the boat. He loves that thing.’ A small smirk worked its way onto his scarred face. She let out a sigh, certain he wasn’t going to drop his line of questioning. This was exactly why she had hid in the first place, but there was only so long she could deny the truth. 

‘We kissed. And then I ran away.’ His eyes widened for a beat, then his expression took on that searching quality, the one that made him look like he’d give all the coin on the continent to know her thoughts.

‘Huh, the idiot actually did it.’ She frowned at him, but before she could decipher the meaning behind his words he let out a snicker. ‘He was that bad a kisser you ran away?’

In normal circumstances she would have laughed at his joke and brushed it off. In her current state of distress however, she found herself blushing harder, ducking her head down to hide her mortification. ‘He wasn’t a bad kisser.’ She mumbled into her knees. ‘I just…I can’t…being with me is bad for him.’

Eskel’s derisive snort made her lift her head. ‘Of all the things you are for him, _bad_ is definitely not one.’ She swallowed thickly as she looked up into his familiar amber eyes, the hole in her chest throbbed. 

‘How is he?’ She asked weakly. 

He sighed. ‘Not good. The foulest I’ve ever seen him. He won’t talk to me or Geralt about it and has spent the last few days out of the keep. I assumed he was looking for you.’ She nodded in response, her mood sinking with every minute. Eskel leant towards her, his expression softening. ‘Whatever is going on between you, I’m sure it will sort itself out. He doesn’t deserve your guilt though. Come back up with me.’ 

His voice was soothing, like a balm on her wound. He reached out again and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. As his fingers swept along her cheek, she felt a comforting warmth blossom beneath his touch. Eskel’s eyes briefly flared with something hotter than friendship and she felt her stomach tighten, although not in a good way. Apprehension flooded through her and she broke the contact by slowly standing up. He followed suit. The fleeting look already gone, his usual friendly demeanour back in place.

‘You think he’ll ever talk to me again?’ She asked, determined to forget the odd moment they had just shared.

‘Sure he will. He just needs time to get over his own ego and admit not everything’s about him.’ He grimaced, running a hand through his hair. ‘Although, it’ll be Imbaelk and then some before he admits that.’

Her ears pricked up at the foreign word, it was the same one Lambert had said to her a month ago at the pass. As they walked out of the damp cell she shot the witcher a sideways look. ‘What _is_ Imbaelk?’ 

‘It’s a celebration most have when winter turns to spring. People gather to eat and drink, welcoming the longer days and new growth.’ 

‘Huh. Sounds a lot like Christmas where I’m from. Except that happens near the start of winter and is about the birth of someone from thousands of years ago that most people don’t believe in anymore…’. She trailed off under Eskel’s puzzled look. ‘It’s a religious thing. Main point is people get together with their families to get drunk and eat turkey. Presents are involved at some point as well.’ She smiled at him, feeling a little foolish. Why was she babbling about Christmas? The last time she had celebrated it was before she’d lost her family. The demons certainly didn’t participate in it.

‘Sounds…nice.’ He said kindly. They lapsed into silence as they walked up the narrow stairs, their shoulders brushing in the cramped space. Ellie’s thoughts were far away by the time they reached the main hall, so much so that she didn’t notice Yennefer approaching them until the sorceress was right on them.

‘I see Eskel sniffed you out. Hiding in the dungeons was clever, no one would have expected you to willing go down into that foul-smelling place.’ Her nostrils flared and she recoiled slightly. Ellie was pretty sure she stank of mouldy straw and rat droppings at this point. 

‘Not foul-smelling enough it would seem. The witcher still got me. I’ll have to improve on my hide and seek game for next time.’ She shot Eskel a smirk and he returned the favour. That funny warmth spread through her and she quickly turned away.

‘Your recent foray into the cells and your current hygiene wasn’t the reason I came to talk to you.’ Yennefer shot an irritated look at Eskel, then waited expectantly. Ellie shook her head.

‘It’s okay if he hears.’ The sorceress raised a perfect eyebrow before turning her attention back to her.

‘Very well. I recently got back from one of my…fact finding missions, and have brought interesting news. Triss and I detected a powerful magic somewhere off in the far reaches of the Continent. It would have gone unnoticed if we hadn’t been looking for something similar to what you can do.’ 

‘What was it exactly?’ Ellie asked, her interest piqued. 

‘A storm appeared out of nowhere. Sunk an entire fleet of Nilfgaardian brigantines. No one can detect who or what was responsible, but whatever it was, it was certainly powerful.’ 

‘A vaedermakar maybe?’ Eskel said. Ellie flicked him a confused look, unfamiliar with the word. He noticed and gave her a lopsided smile. ‘A weather druid. They can manipulate the weather, much like you.’ 

Yennefer shook her head. ‘No vaedermakar alive could have summoned a storm like this so quickly. No, we suspect something else, a magical being of some kind. A djinn or-‘

‘Another demon?’ Ellie interjected. Yennefer gave her a hard stare. 

‘Potentially. Are you able to sense them?’ Ellie chewed on her bottom lip, unsure if this was information she should share.

‘I can…although they have to be near to me.’ She glanced between the witcher and the sorceress now looking at her inquisitively. ‘I can sense when one is close by usually. It’s how we track each other outside of Purgatory.’ 

Yennefer tilted her head a fraction. ‘And you haven’t felt one near you since arriving here?’ 

Ellie shook her head. ‘No.’ 

‘Hmm.’ Eksel said, in a stunning imitation of his brother. ‘You think another demon is stopping her from leaving?’ The sorceress shrugged.

‘I’m clutching at straws here. The phantom storm is the most unusual thing to happen since we started looking, but it could have nothing to do with her problem. Even if it is connected, we still have no idea of motive. Any thoughts on _why_ something would want to keep you in our world?’ 

‘None. Although another demon would explain how it’s only my gateway opening ability that is cancelled out.’ Eskel frowned in an unsaid question. ‘I can still summon lightning and use most of my other powers as far as I’m aware.’

There was a long pause as Yennefer seemed to think about what she’d said. ‘As far as I can see we have two options.’ She held up a perfectly manicured finger. ‘One, we lay low and hope whatever or whomever this is loses interest; my bets are on this not being the case.’ She added another finger to the first. ‘Two, we draw it out. Find out what it is exactly, and what it wants with you.’ She gave them both a haughty smirk. ‘This would be my preferred option.’ 

‘How do you suggest we… _draw_ it out?’ Eskel said in a low growl. There was something protective in the way he had suddenly angled himself so he was partially blocking Ellie’s view of the sorceress, that made her blood pound in her ears. 

‘She may not be able to detect other demons unless they’re close, but this thing, whatever it is, can definitely detect her. It can sense when she’s trying to leave, so by that reckoning it should be able to detect her doing other things as well, or any powerful use of magic. If we get you to use some of your other powers a bit more, make a few waves of your own, maybe it will become interested enough to come pay you a visit.’

‘Maybe. Or maybe it will watch from a distance and strike when we’re not ready for it.’ Ellie mumbled, feeling a nagging feeling in her gut at the thought or luring a potentially powerful demon to the keep. Eskel snorted at her comment, and gave her a sideways look.

‘We’re a keep full of paranoid witchers and even more paranoid sorceresses El. We’re always ready.’ Ellie felt her brow lower at his blasé dismissal of her fears. 

‘And none of you asked to be involved. It wouldn’t be fair if I brought down a supernatural horror on this place and forced you all to fight on my behalf.’ At this the witcher turned to look down at her properly.

‘It’s what we _do_. If we don’t fight now, it’ll just be another day, another reason down the road. Lambert made the decision for all of us when he brought you here, and if you won’t let us fight for your sake, then let us for fight for his.’ Ellie’s chest clenched uncomfortably as the subject drifted dangerously close to the dark haired, arrogant witcher. 

‘Let me think about it.’ She said. Eskel and Yennefer regarded her for a second then the sorceress inclined her head. 

‘Of course. I’ll be in my room for the next week or so. Got some things that are better done in the safety of this keep.’ With that cryptic end she spun around in a flurry or skirts and black hair, and strode away from them purposefully. Eskel and Ellie stared after her for a moment before the witcher blew out a slow breath.

‘Mercurial as ever that one. How Geralt manages still baffles me.’ He flashed a grin at her and she tentatively responded. Her mind still distracted by everything she had just learnt. 

‘I always meant to ask…what is up with Geralt, Triss and Yen?’ Eskel blinked owlishly down at her before his grin stretched wide across his scarred face. 

‘Oh ho. After the real intel now?’ He began to walk through the main hall as he continued to talk. ‘There’s a lot to unpack, let me just boil it down to this. Triss and Yen both love my brother, and he loves them both…but in very different ways.’ 

Ellie kept pace with the witcher. ‘That doesn’t tell me much Eskel. But thanks anyway.’ Eskel let out one of his booming laughs, it filled the hall with sound. They carried on walking out of the main hall and through the doors to the yard outside. 

‘Love is a complicated thing.’ Eskel finally said after a lengthy pause. She kept her eyes strategically trained forward, staring out across the snowy courtyard, letting her eyes adjust to the drastic change in light. There was a weighty silence between them, as if Eskel wanted to say more, but much to her relief he sighed before changing the subject.

‘The keep really does look a lot better since you arrived. It’s almost back to how it was when I was a trainee witcher.’ She felt him shift next to her, half turning to face her. ‘One thing we used to do when I was growing up here was celebrate Imbaelk. It’s been a long time since the last one but I reckon I could persuade Vesemir, especially as you haven’t seen one before. I think we could all use a break for once.’ Ellie was still processing their proposal of luring a potentially devastating force to everyone here, not to mention her still tumultuous feelings towards Lambert, but Eskel’s idea sounded…good. When was the last time she had celebrated anything? Too long, she thought and if her time in this strange, yet fascinating world was limited, might as well make the most of it.

‘Sounds good to me.’ She said, smiling up at the witcher. ‘Maybe I can add some things from my Christmas as well, seeing as it’s winter.’ 

Eskel grinned down at her. ‘Excellent. I’ll go ask Vesemir now.’ He walked a few steps then turned to look at her, still stood on the steps of the keep. ‘Oh, and don’t worry about Lambert. Like I said, he’ll get over it.’ 

Eskel strode off across the yard, intent on completing his new mission. Ellie watched his retreating back and wondered how she always managed to make things so complicated. There were times she wished she had just died in the woods next to her brother. At least then she wouldn’t have left such a wake of destruction behind her. Sometimes literally, but most often it was the people she cared most about she destroyed.

* * *

The impromptu Imbaelk/Christmas celebration gained traction faster than Ellie would have thought possible. As soon as Vesemir had admitted it sounded like a good idea – he was in an uncharacteristic good mood according to Eskel – then it seemed everyone else became involved overnight. Having completed most of the work to be down outside the keep, she turned her attention inside and started tidying the parts of the keep they would use most. Namely the main hall and the kitchens. The benefits were twofold; it gave her something to look forward to, it had been a long time since she’d had cause to celebrate anything, and the second was that it distracted her from a certain dark haired witcher and the risky plan Yen and Eskel kept batting her way. 

She understood their thinking but the idea of luring whatever had brought her here and was now keeping her in place made her stomach sour. She was only one gatekeeper and even with a fortified keep full of witchers and sorceresses she wasn’t sure what would be coming for them. It also made her feel like a sitting duck waiting for hunting season. So yes, the impending Imbaelk celebration was a welcome relief from her less than peaceful inner thoughts.

Since Eskel had found her hiding in Kaer Morhen’s dungeon she had run into Lambert only twice. The first time had been quite literally, as she was hurrying out of the keep to go find a tree for the main hall – she had convinced Vesemir that this was a key part of Christmas much to his reluctance. She had collided, quite forcibly with a solid wall of leather.

‘Oof, sorry. Wasn’t looking…’ She said flustered, her words trailing off as she saw who she’d run into. Lambert stared down at her, his mouth pressed firmly together as if he were supressing its movement.

Then he answered in a lazy drawl, one eyebrow arching sardonically. ‘Clearly you weren’t. Where are you dashing off to in such a hurry? Someone else kiss you?’ 

Ellie felt her cheeks heat up and her fists clench. Her excitement at finding a Christmas tree evaporating instantly.

‘No. If you must know I was going to get a tree.’ Lambert’s arrogant demeanour shifted to one of confusion.

‘What the fuck you getting a tree for Blue eyes?’ Her chest constricted at the easy use of her nickname, but she was already irritated past the point of caring. 

‘It’s for the celebration.’ She said bluntly. His confusion only deepened.

‘Never known Imbaelk to require a tree indoors. Is this some weird demon bullshit?’ 

‘It’s what we do for Christmas. We bring a tree inside and decorate it with lights and baubles and shit, and then we put presents under it, okay?’ Ellie’s passionate outburst ended with her blinking owlishly up at the witcher. ‘Actually, now I’ve said it out loud it does sound like bullshit, but it’s my bullshit so…fuck you.’ Without waiting for him to snipe back she marched past him, the way he had been blocking the door forcing her to skirt infuriatingly close to his broad chest. Refusing to look at his stupid face a second longer she had bolted off not even glancing back. If she had, she might have seen the witcher still stood in place, watching her with thoughtful eyes.

The second time she had encountered him was a few days later. She was in the kitchens, making something called honey cakes, which Eskel had suggested once he figured out her sweet tooth. She was so engrossed in the process of mixing the batter, whilst also trying not to eat the entire contents of the honey jar, that she didn’t hear him approaching from behind. It was only when a hand appeared next to her on the counter top that she let out a strained yelp, and leapt an impressive distance in the air.

Spinning round, she clutched the bowl she was using to her chest protectively. Amber eyes and an arrogant smirk met her, and she felt her cheeks heating without any other provocation.

‘What’s going on here then?’ Lambert said in an amused drawl. 

‘Making honey cakes.’ She said. He regarded her for a second, his eyes flicking to the bowl in her arms, the half empty honey jar set on the counter. There was a ghost of uncertainty on his face and the silence between them grew heavy with unsaid things. Was he going to insult her? Tease her? Dismiss her? Ellie honestly couldn’t tell. All trace of the open, honest and vulnerable witcher from the lake were well and truly gone. He had pretty much reverted back to his annoying, insulting self that she had originally met. That was what came from being rejected she guessed. The walls had slammed up the moment she had chosen to run from him. They still hadn’t mentioned the kiss or its aftermath since that day. 

Lambert seemed to dither before he brought his hand up and offered something awkwardly to her. ‘I found something I thought you could use.’ 

Uncurling his fingers slowly, he revealed something shiny nestled in the palm of his hand. Ellie felt the air catch in her throat as she looked down at the perfect sapphire pendant winking up at her. It sparkled beautifully, and was the deepest, richest blue she had ever seen. ‘It’s beautiful.’ She breathed out. Afraid that if she were too loud it might vanish like a dream. 

The witcher shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I got it as a reward for killing a giant on some rich fucker’s land. Been gathering dust since as I’ve never had anyone to give it to, and trying to sell something like this is more trouble than it’s worth.’ He thrust his hand forward, offering the jewel to a bewildered Ellie.

‘You want me to have it?’ She asked, all thoughts of their previously uncomfortable interaction forgotten at such an unexpected gift. 

‘Figured you could hang it on that stupid tree for the celebration. It _is_ a bauble after all.’ Ellie had to press her lips together to stop the laugh coming out. 

‘That’s not the kind of bauble I meant. Besides, it’s too grand for a Christmas tree. Cheap and tacky is the name of the game.’ She said, smiling to make sure he knew she appreciated the thought. Lambert let out an impatient huff, then without warning he gripped one of her hands, still hugging the bowl, turning it palm up. He dumped the sapphire necklace into it and closed her fingers with an air of finality. 

‘Well, you can still have it. Wear it to the celebration maybe. It matches your eyes.’ A stunned silence settled over them both, and she felt her skin heating up with that familiar burn from his touch. Before the situation could become any more dangerous Lambert cleared his throat, snatching his hand back. ‘I don’t care what you do with it, but it’s your problem now.’ He swivelled sharply on his heels and stormed back out of the kitchen leaving her frozen in place, the sapphire warm from his hand held in her own.

She hadn’t wanted to read too much into it. He hadn’t been exactly nice when he gave it to her. Still, she made sure to fold the sapphire carefully away in her belongings. Wrapping the luminescent stone in the remnants of her old shorts. _It matches your eyes._ When he had said that she couldn’t help remembering the way his mouth had felt on hers all over again. She made sure to always have someone else present when he was around from then on.

An air of excitement began to take over the keep, and even the usually stoic Geralt could be seen helping Vesemir with some of the Imbaelk traditions. It appeared it had been a long time since the witchers had anything to celebrate about as well, and it went some way to making Ellie feel a little less guilty about her imposition. It was the day of the impromptu joint festival that she finally revealed her masterpiece. A thirty-foot pine that she had located and insisted on getting herself; although Eskel had not listened to her protests and had dragged it back up the hill to the keep with her. It stood, pride of place in the main hall which she had cleared, with Vesemir’s supervision of course. 

She had spent every night for the last week decorating the monstrous tree, carefully covering it before anyone was up so as not to ruin the effect. Now, she stood, smiling proudly at her achievement, arms folded as everyone entered for breakfast that morning. She’d had to get creative with her decorations as this world didn’t exactly have a one stop shop for Christmas stuff. Most of the ‘baubles’ on the tree were made out of random junk she had found around Kaer Morhen. As she had told Lambert, cheap and tacky were the best. She had hung pieces of silver cutlery from twine, scraps of metal she had found in the armoury, even empty potion bottles which did a fantastic job of refracting the light from the hundreds of tiny candles she had placed on practically every branch. She had remembered someone saying that was how the Victorians had lit their trees, before the invention of electric lights. She had to admit, they had been on to something, as there was a magic quality to the soft orange glow of the flickering flames as they bounced off the bits of rubbish she had found. Transforming them into the finest sparkling trinkets. It made the whole thing seem ethereal and nostalgic at the same time. 

Vesemir was first into the main hall as always, closely followed by Eskel. The scarred witcher let out a low whistle and nodded approvingly. ‘Impressive El. Looks like it was planted here by faeries.’ 

Vesemir grunted, but she could see the admiring twinkle in his eyes from here. Triss, then Geralt and Yen followed and all of them uttered noises of awe and surprise. Finally, Lambert slouched in, his face set in its characteristic scowl. Ellie held her breath. She was delighted at all of their reactions so far, but secretly it was his she had been most nervous about. Lambert had a way of cutting deep with his sarcasm and scorn if he wanted, she knew he’d be her toughest critic. His eyes were fixed to the stone floor at first, then as he noticed the others gathered in a haphazard group in front of him he stopped and looked up. 

Ellie had a lot of regrets in her life. Many of them deeply rooted in who she was. However, in that one moment she never regretted anything more than saying no the man in front of her. The scowl dissolved like tissue paper in water, his amber eyes widening until she could almost see the reflection of the tree blinking back at her in them. His mouth, which was so used to twisting into expressions of distaste and anger, turned up into a bright grin, and his face lit up with it. In that moment, she saw the man that had opened up to her on the boat, the one that had made her laugh, the one who had kissed her. She saw the man she had grown to love, against reason and judgment, and the one she had hurt by rejecting him. 

His eyes eventually drifted down from the tree and came to rest on her. Suddenly, it was just the two of them in the room. Ellie felt herself smiling back at him. A silent apology for all she had done. He nodded, his grin softening into a sad smile. Geralt said something and Eskel’s booming laugh brought them both crashing back to reality. 

‘We should invite a demon here more often if it means a party every winter.’ Eskel walked over and wrapped an arm around Ellie’s shoulders, giving her a friendly squeeze. She didn’t miss Lambert’s muscles tense suddenly, his mood darkening in a blink of an eye as he gave his brother a narrow-eyed stare. She swallowed thickly and ducked out of the other witcher’s hold easily. Eskel blinked down at her but didn’t say anything as he continued to talk.

‘I’m telling you, I’m going to get as drunk as a sylvan in a vineyard tonight. Shame we won’t have any entertainment.’

‘Well…you say that.’ Yennefer said, a crafty smile spreading across her face. ‘But I was thinking I might invite _one_ more guest to our little gathering. If that’s alright with Vesemir?’ She glanced at the old witcher, her question hanging in the air. It was more than obvious she didn’t expect an answer and no matter the outcome she was going to doing whatever it was she had planned. Ellie had to admire the woman’s brashness. It rivalled even Lambert’s.

‘Do I have a choice?’ The ever astute Vesemir asked tiredly. Yennefer’s smile widened and Geralt shifted nervously beside her.

‘What you got planned Yen?’ He asked. She patted his arm affectionately.

‘I’m only going to invite an old friend of yours to play for us. I hear he’s the best on the Continent.’ 

Geralt let out a low sigh of exasperation. ‘And how do you intend to get Dandelion all the way here from Novigrad?’ 

‘By portal of course.’ Yen’s smile turned wolfish and Ellie felt a spike of dread shoot through her veins. 

‘Not that I wouldn’t be happy to see the stupid bastard, but wouldn’t that draw a lot of eyes to the keep? Portals are a very potent type of magic.’ Geralt had the tone of someone who had spent a long time trying to navigate the complexities of a relationship, but Yennefer was a force of nature and from what Ellie had seen of her, uncontrollable.

‘Exactly my love.’ Her gaze flashed to Ellie. So, this was it, she was forcing her hand. There was no decision anymore, Yennefer was going to try and draw the entity to responsible for all this here herself. Suddenly, Ellie didn’t feel like celebrating as she looked at the people gathered around her. The witchers who she had all grown to love in their own ways, the two sorceresses who she had learnt to respect in her brief time with them. After tonight they could all be in terrible danger. Her eyes came to rest on Lambert, he gave her a guarded look in return. She might as well try and enjoy the peace while she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, I really do look forward to these Wednesday updates. Listening to all your thoughts on each chapter really does spur me on with this monster of a story. I hope you aren't all too made with about the last chapter? Whoever said love was an easy thing. ;) I hope you enjoy these next few chapters, got a lot of drama and relationship stuff to get through before the adventure resumes.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

‘You look stunning dear.’ Yennefer assured her for what felt like the thousandth time. 

‘Not sure I needed to change to be honest. I was fine wearing what I had.’ The sorceress slapped her hand away which was attempting to pull up the hemline of the dress she and Triss had given to her. 

‘Nonsense. This the first celebration Kaer Morhen has seen for likely hundreds of years, and we will make it a great one.’ 

‘Don’t see why that includes me looking like an idiot.’ Ellie muttered under her breath as the elegant woman swept away from her. Triss chuckled next to her.

‘Don’t worry. You’re not the first less than enthusiastic victim Yennefer’s claimed. I lost count the amount of times she forced poor Ciri into something more…feminine.’ Ellie looked down at herself, her cheeks heating slightly at the revealing dress. It was the best of a bad bunch, the only one she had conceded to wearing after Yen had shown her a multitude of extravagant, floor length gowns that were made for someone with far more class than her. In the end they had delved into the wardrobe of the mysterious Ciri again, and Ellie had reluctantly chosen a simple A-line dress in a soft egg-shell blue colour. It was off the shoulder and a little too short at the bottom and low at the top for her liking but it was better than the rest. She had to admit to feeling a swell of sympathy towards Triss for having to compete with this whirling dervish of a woman for Geralt’s affections. Then again, she also felt sorry for Geralt.

‘Come on, come on. The boys are waiting ladies.’ Yen shot back at them both and Ellie let out a laboured sigh. 

‘It’s not like they’re going to make an effort.’ She grumbled to the red head. Triss smiled. 

‘Oh, you never know. Dandelion might have bullied them into it.’ Ellie snorted. The bard had only been in the keep for a little over six hours but he had certainly made an impact. The moment the flamboyant, spritely man had bounced his way into the main hall Ellie had felt her spirits lift. True, his presence meant that they might soon be facing an unknown enemy, but his carefree attitude was a welcome change from the witchers’ usually serious tone. 

He had made a great show of sweeping off his impressively feathered hat and bowing to the group moving furniture in preparation for the Imbaelk feast around the hall. ‘Greetings my witcher friends. Long have I waited to see the legendary Kaer Morhen and now I find it lit up like a fairy tail castle, with its own band of knights gallantly preparing for a soiree.’ 

‘Shut up Dandelion and help me move this.’ Geralt barked over at him. The bard flushed pink, but jogged obediently over to his friend to help, however much he could with his twig thin arms, in moving a large trestle table across the hall. Ellie had watched the odd pair fascinated. Eskel passing by with a barrel of ale under one arm, grinned down at her. 

‘Don’t ask me to explain their relationship, cos I don’t think even they know.’ She had to admit, Dandelion was defiantly a charmer. She wasn’t sure she had ever had anyone kiss her hand by way of introduction, and the troubadour dressed in purple silks had barely blinked when Geralt had confided that she was, in fact, a demon. 

‘Interesting company begets superior art in my opinion.’ He had stated, winking at her cheekily. Yes, she could see how he might succeed in strong arming the witchers into smarter garments.

‘I feel like you’re missing something.’ Triss said, snapping her out of her reverie. 

‘Is this not enough?’ Ellie replied tartly, gesturing at the dress and partially tamed hair. She had drawn the line at Yen putting anything on her face. 

‘Nearly, but not quite.’ Triss said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. ‘We need something to grab his eye.’ 

Ellie narrowed her eyes. ‘Who’s eye?’ 

Triss smiled enigmatically. ‘No one’s. I mis-spoke.’ 

‘Hmm.’ Ellie said, giving her best Geralt impression. Triss burst out laughing, her beauty suddenly dazzling. 

‘Have you got any jewellery? Something that sparkles.’ Ellie was about to open her mouth to say, of course she didn’t have jewellery. She fought demons, it wasn’t exactly something that called for a nice earing set. Then she shut her mouth again as she remembered the thing nestled in amongst her old clothes. 

‘I might have something. You go on. I’ll be down in a sec.’ Triss nodded sagely at her before following on behind Yen, out of her room and down the stairs to the main hall. Retrieving Lambert’s necklace, Ellie deliberated for a moment. Would he be upset if she wore it? He had given it to her for the tree after all, not to display around her neck. 

_It matches your eyes._ His soft, husky voice rang in her ears and she felt a shiver run over her. He had given it to her, hadn’t he? So, what if she decided to wear it. She was already made up like a bloody pageant doll, might as well complete the look. Deftly she slipped it around her neck and fixed it in place. The penny sized sapphire hung on her chest, sparkling prettily. Ellie was abruptly very shy. She tugged self-consciously at the top of the dress, trying to keep the ugly star shaped scar above her heart hidden. Nothing could be done about the one on her face, but then again, she wasn’t the only one with unsightly scars on show. No, she was just the only one wearing a dress.

Sighing heavily, she decided she had waited long enough. If she dithered anymore Yennefer would be back in here and dragging her out by her hair. Steadying her nerves as best she could Ellie made her way down to the main hall where she could already hear the sound of laughter and music drifting up to her. A broad smile stretched across her face of its own accord. Whatever happened next, at least she would have this night of celebration with her new friends to remember. The people who had helped a strange demon girl from another world with no incentive to do so.

The sound of revelry grew as she descended the stairs, and her nose was hit with a cacophony of scents. Cooked meat, cakes, fruit. The strong smell of pine from her Christmas tree and the wood smoke from the large fire; but mixed in with all these were the scents that had become so familiar to her. The cedar tang of Vesemir, the berry and floral aroma of Yen. Triss’ homely lavender smell, and Geralt’s woody thyme. Eskel she could pick out a little clearer, having spent more time with him. The comforting and fragrant scent of rosemary stood out like a punctuation mark amongst the jumble of odours. Then soaring above them all, almost overwhelming in its strength, was the fiery, boarding on painful sear of cinnamon. 

Ellie felt her palms grow slick from perspiration as she followed the smells into the bright hall. The room was a glow with candle light. Her tree a beacon of haphazard beauty in one corner. She squinted, the sights, smells and sounds suddenly too much to take in, and then she felt everyone’s eyes on her. Letting her sight adjust she saw Triss and Yen first, stood by a table groaning with ale. Eskel hadn’t been kidding when he had said about getting drunk. They both smiled at her warmly, Yen lifting a glass filled with something burgundy in salute. To one side of them was Dandelion. Perched nonchalantly on another table, his legs crossed, his lute resting across them with his fingers frozen as if mid strum. He gave her another cheeky wink as her eyes swivelled to the largest group in the hall. 

The witchers were gathered around the food, which had been laid out on the biggest table in the keep near the middle of the room. Eskel was closest to her, his scarred face split into its usual grin. He was holding a large leg of some kind of bird and much like Dandelion appeared to have frozen mid bite. Vesemir and Geralt were stood on the opposite side of the table, their bodies angled as though they had been deep in conversation before the interruption. It was only then that Ellie realised that Triss had been right. The witchers were no longer in their traditional leather armour, but dressed in a far more casual manner. Thankfully, none of them had gone the way of Dandelion’s elaborate purple silks and feathered hat, but they still looked shockingly different. Eskel was in a deep burgundy shirt, a black velvet waistcoat left open on top. Geralt was wearing a white shirt, slightly open at the collar, his hair tied back in a neat ponytail. It looked like it had been brushed and Ellie wondered if Yennefer had been the culprit. Vesemir was the smartest of the three, a doublet of black and silver making him look like a dignified lord rather than a battle hardened witcher. His moustache and hair looked similarly well-kept for a change, and he gave her a friendly smile only adding to his handsomeness. 

Finally, Ellie focused on the last member of their party, and her first friend. Lambert was stood furthest away. Leaning carelessly against the table, his arms folded. She felt her palms grow cold, and her stomach clench at the sight of him. He was probably the least smartly dressed of the group. Only wearing a loose black shirt and his signature leather trousers. Nevertheless, Ellie felt herself grow warm as her eyes drifted to the hint of chest hair his informal clothes revealed, and the exposed muscles of his forearms crossed across his broad chest. 

Likewise, his own flaming amber eyes slid down her figure, and on reflex she gripped the top of her dress and yanked it higher earning her a slow smirk from the witcher. Yen was next to her instantly, smacking at her hand. 

‘Stop that. You look glorious.’ She appraised the sapphire now hanging from her neck, approval in her eyes. ‘Enough gawking. Dandelion where is this new song you keep bragging about?’ 

‘Of course. Wait till you hear this one, it’s a doozy.’ And with that, the party resumed. She would give him this, for all his bravado and garishness, Dandelion could certainly play. Ellie drifted around the hall, taking in all their hard work. The tree was a focal point, but there were also festoons of ivy and holly wrapped around beams and along the walls. The large fire was crackling merrily, and there must have been close to a thousand candles lighting the place. Despite it not being the right time for Imbaelk, it still being winter, there were snowdrops gathered in various glass jars scattered around the tables. Ellie suspected some magic had been involved to grow them. 

It made her light with happiness to see the residents of Kaer Morhen laughing and joking. The hall alive with music and merriment. She wondered if it was anything like the old times, when this place had been full of witchers. Vesemir certainly looked the youngest she had ever seen him, as he slapped Geralt’s back over something particularly funny. 

Ellie found herself stopping by the honey cakes that she had made. They looked and smelt delicious. Carefully she picked one up and savoured the sweet aroma before biting into it. Her eyes closed at the taste of honey in her mouth, the sensation of eating an indulgence she rarely partook in, but this _was_ a celebration.

‘Thought you didn’t eat?’ Lambert’s voice came from someone close to her ear. Snapping her eyes open, she held the cake away from her guiltily.

‘I don’t _need_ to. Doesn’t mean I can’t eat at all.’ She felt herself getting defensive under his impassive look. His cinnamon scent was even stronger with only a shirt separating them. 

‘I offered you food on the journey, kinda’ rude not to accept it if you could, don’t you think?’ He was teasing her. She could feel it. That dangerous, gunpowder tension already building between the two of them. 

‘If I don’t have to eat why would I _choose_ to eat something gross?’ Lambert smirked. ‘You’re such a pervert. You know what I mean.’

‘Hmm, I’m not sure that I do Blue eyes.’ He turned to lean against the table again, his bare forearm brushing against her exposed shoulder. ‘I was taught it’s polite to accept someone’s hospitality no matter how… _gross_ it is.’ She tried not to get distracted by the skin to skin contact they had just shared and focus on the argument they were currently having. She could see Eskel moving up the table towards them in her peripheral vision.

‘Did _you_ like anything you ate on the Path?’ Lambert pretended to think about it, rubbing a hand over his beard. 

‘Not exactly.’ Her lips pressed together as her irritation spiked at his indifferent tone.

‘Then why the fuck would I?’ Eskel’s booming laugh cut through the tension. It was like being slapped in the face by a blast of air, as Ellie felt her senses return to her. The searing, private bubble she and Lambert reserved for each other bursting. 

‘She’s got a point brother.’ 

‘As usual, no one asked you. Haven’t you got your body weight in ale to drink _brother_?’ Eskel smirked as he took a deliberate swig of the tankard he was holding, then placed it down forcefully on the table with a loud bang. ‘Actually, I was thinking about asking this one to dance. That is…if you haven’t already asked her?’ 

Lambert’s lip curled as he regarded his brother. Eskel simply smiled back, holding a hand out to her as he kept his eyes locked on the younger witcher. Ellie felt her skin flush, and a mixture of mortification and annoyance at being placed in the middle of this territorial display. ‘I don’t really know how to dance to this kind-’.

‘It’s okay. I’ll show you.’ Eskel interjected, wiggling his eyebrows in mock suggestion. Finding herself with limited options; to accept and humiliate herself in front of the others with Eskel, or refuse and continue this awkward conversation with Lambert, she let out her third sigh of the evening and placed her hand in Eskel’s.

‘Fine. But if I step on your toes you only have yourself to blame.’ His hand closed firmly around hers and he led her around the table and into the clear space beside it. Dandelion was playing a jig of some kind and Ellie instantly regretted her decision as Eskel took her other hand in his and began to lead her into a dance. She wasn’t a clumsy person by any means; quick on her feet and extremely athletic. However, she was unfamiliar with the dances of this world and had the attention of the entire room on her, including a very obvious burning gaze from somewhere behind her. 

‘Follow my lead.’ Eskel murmured as he spun them round, briefly letting go of her to do a series of claps. She copied him as best she could, and felt her cheeks burning brightly as Vesemir’s gruff bark of laughter came from one side.

‘You could’ve at least let one of us show the poor girl how to dance first Eskel. You move like a lame mule.’ Eskel grinned, not taking his eyes of her as he grabbed her around the waist and twirled her.

‘A lame mule who’s dancing with the prettiest girl in the room, might I add.’ At this he winked, and Ellie was sure she matched his shirt with how hot her face had become. He had one hand around her waist, the other was gripping hers tightly as he moved them around the floor. She couldn’t agree with Vesemir, Eskel danced with the same grace and agility as he fought. She found herself getting swept along with the music and his energetic jigging, until she was following him step for step. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw another elegant pair dancing alongside them. Glancing past Eskel’s shoulder she saw Geralt and Yennefer spin past. The sorceress looking like a Queen in her black velvet gown, with ivory detail. Their eyes met and she gave Ellie a coy smile before they disappeared in whirl of movement as Eskel lifted her high into the air by her waist. She let out a loud squeal, before bursting into a fit of giggles as he set her back down. 

‘Eyes on me miss.’ He scolded. Dandelion finished the jig with a flourish but went straight into the next song without pause. This time it was a flowing, melancholy tune, speaking of longing and heartache. Eskel wrapped an arm around her waist and they began a slower dance. Flowing around each other like water. Now she was moving at a more sedate speed Ellie could see Vesemir and Triss had also joined them. Triss was smiling warmly up at the old witcher and there was a familiar tenderness there that reminded her of a father and daughter. 

‘Are you happy?’ Eskel’s sudden question made her start. Her eyes snapping back to her partner. She tried to process his question but her mind kept coming back blank as to what the right words should be. His grin faltered as he watched her deliberate. ‘This is something else El. It’s the happiest I’ve seen everyone in years, and you did this. Seems a shame for you to not feel some of that happiness too.’ 

They circled each other, her palm pressed against his own as she looked up into his marred face. ‘I’m fine.’ She said. His brow lowered at her non-committal response.

‘You don’t look it. I mean…you look…stunning Ellie. But you don’t look happy. Not really.’ They reversed their direction, opposite palms to opposite palms. 

‘I don’t belong here. I bring chaos and danger wherever I go, and I’ll have to leave soon, with whatever destruction I’ve brought here in my wake.’ His arm returned to her waist and they weaved between the other dancing couples.

‘Then stay. We can face whatever’s after you. You can make a home here.’ There was something in the tone of his voice that made her suddenly very scared. She shook her head, trying to put a bit of distance between them but his grip was like iron. What was with these witchers and awkward situations?

‘I can’t. I have to go back.’ 

‘Says who? We’ll keep you safe, not that you _need_ that. Everyone here loves you…I love-‘

She felt like she was about to be sick. She could feel the air begin to crackle around her, and her eyes clamped shut as if shutting it out would somehow stop it. It happened in the blink of an eye. One second, she felt her muscles tensing against the witcher, a desperate plea of ‘Eskel’ escaping her lips, then the weight of his arm around her lifted and she was spinning in space into the arms of another.

‘I’ll take it from here brother.’ A familiar drawl said near her ear. Warm hands curled around her, and a solid wall of muscle pressed against her. Slowly she opened her eyes and looked up into Lambert’s sombre face. ‘You okay there, Blue eyes?’

His voice was low and husky as he manoeuvred them across the floor. She saw a flash of Eskel, stood alone watching them move away, a sad smile on his face. There she went again, hurting someone else close to her. ‘Not really.’ She admitted, ducking her head so her forehead brushed against his collar bone.

‘He means well, but he has no tact when it comes to the ladies.’ She could hear rather than see the smile in his voice. Ellie let out a very un-ladylike snort into his shirt.

‘And you do?’ His chest vibrated as a low chuckle rumbled through it.

‘Touché.’ 

She watched as their feet moved haltingly round each other. They were barely dancing anymore, the shock of Eskel’s almost confession and Lambert’s quick interjection ruining her party mood. 

‘I can’t lead you if you’re looking down at the floor the entire time.’ Ellie swallowed. Unwilling to lift her head and face whatever disaster was about to occur, but she wasn’t left any room for argument as a firm finger inserted itself below her chin and gently raised it so she was looking into the eyes of her new partner. ‘There. That’s much better.’ He murmured. His eyes flashed down to the sapphire resting against her chest. He lowered his finger and ran it long the thin chain, settling it against her skin where the jewel shone. 

‘This looks good on you.’ He said huskily. 

It became very hard for her to breathe. The atmosphere becoming charged in an instant. The rest of the room faded away until it was just them, dancing alone. Suddenly words felt pointless, and neither of them spoke. They flowed around each other, hands pressed against hands, bodies just touching. Enough to feel the heat from each other, but not enough to burn. Lambert’s expression was a blank mask, but his eyes…his eyes said everything. In that moment it didn’t matter who she was, or even who he was. All that existed was them and the dance. 

He was a very different dancer to Eskel; less graceful but certainly no less skilled. There was a control to his movements which belayed the barely contained emotion beneath. She found herself matching him seamlessly, her feet moving automatically, her body bending and flowing with only the slightest direction from him. Ellie could feel her reasoning begin to slip. Inch by inch she moved closer to him, until her arms were wrapped around his neck, and his were firmly locked around her waist.

At one point he lifted her high in the air, like Eskel had, and she felt gravity shift as his hands dug into the flesh of her waist. Her own supporting herself on his shoulders, their eyes locked onto each other. Slowly, achingly slowly he lowered her down. Their noses touching as he brought her level to his face. She hovered there for a moment, his breath hot against her mouth, his hands holding her suspended in the air. 

On the edges of their bubble she could make out the others; Geralt and Yen frozen and watching them, Triss now dancing with Eskel, their eyes not on each other but them. The hall abruptly felt very small and claustrophobic. Ellie could hear her blood pounding through her veins as Lambert’s touch began to burn into her.

‘I need…I need some air. Please.’ She stammered. Lambert gently placed her back on her feet and let her go without argument. She gave him an apologetic look before ducking her head and quickly darting out the main hall into the courtyard outside. The night air was frigid and she became acutely aware she was wearing nothing but this ridiculously small dress. Not wanting to go back in, she broke into a brisk jog and headed for the stairs leading up to the parapet on the walls. All she had wanted was one night of peace, why did her stupid heart have to keep getting in the way?

* * *

Lambert made sure he waited a respectful amount of time before following her. The others had continued with the revelry after she had left, but he had retreated to a far corner to collect his senses. He wasn’t mad at her this time. He had heard what she had said to Eskel, and he would deal with his brother in due course for his little outburst, but it had made a lot of things clear to him. Not least her motivations for playing with his emotions over the last few months. So, he sat and waited, watching the others laugh and drink and dance. Waiting until he knew they wouldn’t notice him leaving through the same doors she had. If it was fear that was keeping them apart, he’d make her see sense.

It wasn’t hard to pick up her scent outside, so familiar had it become. He traced it to the stairs leading up to the battlements. As he craned his neck to look, he saw her outline silhouetted against the night sky. The inky blackness broken up by thousands of pinprick stars haloing her lonely shadow. He took the stairs quietly, not wanting to disturb her too soon. Reaching the top, he paused, watching her silently for a moment. Her profile silver in the moonlight. A few wisps of her forest brown hair were caught in the breeze up here, and they danced around her head.

He nearly turned around and headed back down to the hall, even though he knew she had already sensed his presence. Something about the way she stared off over the battlements of Kaer Morhen made him uneasy to disturb her. As if his obnoxious personality would be unwanted even now. 

‘Stop lurking in the shadows.’ Her voice was quiet but carried clear as a bell to him. He had become so accustomed to it now he was certain he’s be able to hear it across the busy market square in Novigrad if needed. Having been found out he made his way over to her. Coming to stop by her side and turning to look out at the same view. The forests and mountains surrounding the Witcher school were bathed in the same silvery light as she was, but they certainly didn’t have the same effect on him that she did in the moonlight.

‘What you doing up here?’ He asked, keeping his gaze fixed on the still waters of the nearby lake, the light bouncing off it making it look like a new penny. He felt her sigh, her arm brushing against his as her shoulders rose and fell. It was moronic how much his body reacted to the brief contact. His pulse instantly jumping into a sprint, the now familiar heat pooling in his gut. He liked to think if she had a pulse it would also be racing right now. The thought brought a tinge of sadness to the otherwise peaceful moment.

‘I needed to get away. It was all getting a bit…intense again.’ 

‘Running doesn’t seem to be working though.’ He kept his eyes straight ahead, but he felt hers shift to him finally. 

‘Only because you keep coming after me.’ He looked down at her then.

‘So tell me to stop.’ He saw the internal battle in her eyes, even in this light they were a deep, soulful blue. The exact shade of the pendant he had given her. He turned so he was facing her completely. ‘Tell me you don’t want me, that you don’t feel this…shit between us and I’ll leave you alone.’ 

She bit her lip. ‘I can’t.’ 

He nodded, a triumphant look on his face. ‘You can’t because you love me…right?’ 

Her mouth opened in shock. ‘Lambert, you have to understand. I’m cursed, you’ll only end up dead if I admit-‘

‘I don’t give a _fuck_ about your stupid curse.’ He hissed, taking a step towards her forcing her to retreat a pace herself. ‘From my experience most curses are self-imposed. Made up bullshit that people tell themselves to excuse their shitty luck. And even if you _are_ cursed, don’t I get a say in this? I’m a big boy, I can look after myself, but what I can’t do is go another fucking second without you. It’s driving me _mad_.’ 

The hollow sounding wind pressed in on them as the silence grew. His last word drifting away from them on the breeze. She looked up at him, her eyes round as saucers, her chest rising and falling rapidly. 

‘I’ve already watched someone I love die because of me. Because of what I am. I promised myself I’d never feel that again.’ 

‘Looks like you broke your promise.’ He said tersely. 

Her lips thinned into a tight line, a determined look entering her eyes. ‘Not yet. We don’t have to do this, I can make-‘

‘No!’ His shout made her jump back another step, but he was past being nice about this. If she was going to continue to punch him repeatedly in the heart he’d make her understand how much it fucking hurt. ‘Stop this Ellie!’ 

The cool air began to heat around them. A crackling, metallic taste tickling his tongue and skin. He had felt it before on the boat and moments earlier in the hall when Eskel had been pushing himself on her, but this time he was already two steps ahead of her. His hand snapped out and latched onto her wrist, holding her as tight as he could without hurting her.

‘Stop running.’ He said, his voice a low threat. The energy she had summoned bit and stung at his hand, numbing his fingers, making it hard to hold on. ‘Don’t take away my choice. Don’t _you_ do that to me.’ 

He could feel his anger building up inside, that familiar rage that had pushed so many people away. She had looked equally angry when he had grabbed her wrist, but now the outrage disappeared. Melting away to leave only desperate longing behind. 

‘Crazy fucking demon.’ He growled, pulling her towards him so she slammed into his chest with a huff. His mouth was on hers before she could argue back, his hand still locked around her wrist in a vice grip. The other sliding around her neck to trap her to him properly. Unlike their first kiss, this one was frantic, almost desperate in its quality. He didn’t know if she’d try and run from him still, so was eager to convey all of his feelings into this one condensed moment. Her breath was hot in his mouth, the taste of her better than any wine in Toussaint. His memory of it didn’t do it justice, and he found the more he devoured the more he wanted. Her body bowed against him, at first stiff and unyielding but as he slid his tongue into her mouth she melted into him, surrendering to his will. 

Their embrace was not hesitant or romantic like the bards always sang about. It was wild and aggressive, consuming them like a fire, and Lambert knew he needed to get them out of the open and somewhere more private. 

‘Come with me.’ He said huskily against her lips. ‘Now.’ He added for good message. Keeping a firm hold on her wrist he turned and began to stride towards the stairs. Much to his elation she followed obediently behind. All trace of the ominous crackling in the air gone. This time she was choosing to stay. 

Lambert’s pace quickened along with his heart rate as he led her back into the keep, avoiding the main hall and ascending to the dorms. He knew where her room was. If he hadn’t passed it numerous times since she’d been moved there, then her scent alone would have been enough to guide him. She didn’t make any comment about where they were going, the sound of her rapid footsteps behind him the only noise she made. He could hear his pulse galloping in his ears as he reached her door, ushering them both in and shutting it quietly behind them. 

Slowly, he turned to face her. Releasing his hold on her wrist. They stood in the dark room looking at each other. Both of them breathing heavily, both afraid to move in case the moment was lost. After what felt like an age Lambert walked over to the bed and lit a small candle that was half burnt out on the table next to it. There was a spark of magic as he used Igni and the room was bathed in a dim orange glow. Ellie stood where he had left her, her hands clasped awkwardly in front of her. The candlelight gave her skin a luminescent glow, the sapphire around her neck drawing his eye, the flickering light dancing in its depths.

Lambert could feel the heat from their kiss on the battlements pooling low in his stomach. He took steady, deliberate steps towards her as if she were a wild animal he was trying not to startle. He watched her throat move as she swallowed, her blue eyes wide and unsure. ‘I want you Ellie.’ He said, his voice barely more than a whisper. He saw her shiver slightly. He stopped right in front of her, so she had to crane her head back to look up at him. He ran a hand up her bare arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake.

‘Is that okay?’ He asked. The liquid heat that had settled in his gut intensified as she stared up at him, her skin flushed and pretty, her mouth slightly open. All he saw was the girl he had inexplicably fallen in love, the demonic part of her a distance concern. Her head bobbed infinitesimally as she nodded her assent. He felt his mouth quirk up into a triumphant smile as he slowly lowered his face to hers, savouring in the suspense this time. 

As their lips touched he relished in the feel of her soft mouth, her breathy sigh as she opened up for him. This time she appeared more hesitant and he could sense the nervousness in her touch as she shakily ran her hands up his chest. Lambert easily took the lead, guiding her fingers to the cord near his throat so she could loosen his shirt. He pressed his hand over hers as she ran her fingertips through his chest hair. A delicious shiver travelling up his spine. Feeling his control beginning to slip he let her hands travel down to the hem and tugged on it encouragingly until she began to lift it up, exposing his torso.

All the while he kissed her mouth, her jaw, her nose, her eyelids, her cheeks. Her hands were hot against the skin of his chest, burning trails of fire as she traced his scars with delicate touches. He found the ties at the back of her dress and began to unlace them. She shuddered when he exposed her back and ran his thumb languidly up her spine. 

In amongst the fevered kisses and hungry touches they managed to undress each other. Lambert could barely breathe at the sight of her naked in front of him, save the sapphire he had given her. He drank her in, memorising every curve and freckle. His eyes settled on a star shaped scar right over her heart, and without thinking his hand reached out to touch it gently. It was the only mark on her, besides the brand on her wrist and scar over one eye. The skin was slightly raised and puckered, and it was cold to the touch. A fissure of anger cracked the lust filled haze of his thoughts. Memories of a jagged tree branch piercing the flesh, the screams of a child echoing in a dark wood.

He started as her hand came to rest over his, pressing his palm over the scar so he could truly feel the contrast of ice and fire. ‘It’s okay.’ She said softly. Her mouth quivering in a nervous smile. ‘It doesn’t hurt now.’ 

His breath caught in his throat as he looked down at her. Then she closed the distance and pressed her naked body against his. With no clothes between them, their fire raged brightly. Everywhere their skin touched an inferno sprang, engulfing them as they devoured each other. Lambert ran his hands down, over her ass and cupping the back of her thighs lifted her easily into the air. Instinctually, she wrapped her legs around his waist and let him carry her to the bed. 

In his long, and unhappy life Lambert had bedded a lot of people. It was a release for him; a way to gain some kind of control and escapism in his unfortunate existence. With Ellie it was different. He felt his world shrink down to that one room, until it was only them, lost in each other. Escaping was the last thing on his mind now. He sensed her inexperience, and took the lead once more. Guiding her legs, her arms, gently positioning them both so he could look into those endless blue eyes. He made love to her slowly, watching her as she came undone beneath him. A peace came over him; a sense of belonging he had wanted since he was young, and when she finally gave into him, his name on her lips was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, I was super excited for you to read this week's instalment. I know a lot of you have been waiting patiently for this so here in the depths of summer I give you a little Christmas/Imbaelk present to you. ;) Hope you all enjoyed the big moment and can't wait to hear your thoughts. :)


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Ellie woke to the heady scent of cinnamon. It filled her senses, evoking pleasant memories of the night before. Then the realisation that she had in fact woken up hit her. She had _slept_. When was the last time she had done that? As she was puzzling out this rare phenomenon she felt something shift against her.

Slowly becoming aware of her surroundings, she noticed she was pressed against a warm body, her back encased in a fur blanket. One of her legs was hooked over another that didn’t belong to her and her arms were pinned between herself and her sleeping partner. The tuft of hair on his chest tickled her nose and suddenly the strength of his spicy scent made sense.

Lambert had his arms wrapped around her, his chin resting on the top of her head. A low, rumbling groan vibrated against her ear and she found herself smiling at the memory of him making very similar noises last night. They had gone on for some time, neither one needing to slow or recuperate like a normal human. It had been unlike anything she had experienced before, although that wasn’t saying much. She had only ever been with one other person, the man she had saved. The one she had chosen over her mentor. The first time had been nice, both of them unsure but passionate in the moment.

With Lambert she had felt her body losing control and finding it; she was burning and freezing, whole and empty, alive and dead all at the same time. Every place he’d touched her, kissed her felt like a brand. Searing into her skin. Claiming her. The memory of his hands gripping her, his mouth running over her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. The heat began to rise in her cheeks and pool in her gut at the thought. She had never been there, but she was sure it was as close to heaven as she was ever likely to come. Closing her eyes with a contented sigh, she snuggled against his bare chest, her fingers idly tracing a scar near his collar bone.

‘That tickles.’ A muffled voice said from somewhere above her. He sounded groggy and sleep addled, and Ellie couldn’t help feeling a swell of satisfaction at his exhausted state. 

‘Well, you’re squishing me, it’s the least I can do.’ She replied cheekily. Her whole body shook with the motion of him chuckling, then slowly he released her so she could look up at him. If she had found awake and normal looking Lambert attractive, it was nothing to the drowsy, dishevelled one now. Her stomach gave a tight squeeze as she looked into his sleep hazed amber eyes, his dark, usually carefully slicked back hair in disarray from a combination of the pillow and their activities the previous night. There was a small smile on his lips as he stared down at her. Not a hint of sarcasm or malice in it, only affection. 

‘S’at better?’ He asked, his voice still sluggish.

‘Yeah. Got a better view.’ She said, reaching a now freed hand up to stroke his beard. Lambert’s smile widened lazily and he looked at her with hooded eyes. 

‘Mine just improved too.’ His eyes flicked down from her face to her exposed breasts, and she felt her cheeks glow further. 

‘Pervert.’ Now she got a good look at the smile she jealously guarded for herself. It made his whole face look younger and more carefree. She liked to think it was the real Lambert that lurked below his bitter, snarky exterior. 

‘And you love it Blue eyes.’ With that he leant down and planted a passionate kiss on her mouth. The clenching in her stomach released and suddenly there was a swarm of butterflies wreaking havoc inside of her. By the time he broke away she was feeling light headed and dizzy even lying down. 

‘Uhmm.’ She managed, blinking up at him. He chuckled again and she found she rather liked the sound. 

‘You slept.’ He said, raising one eyebrow. ‘I thought you didn’t do that.’

‘It’s rare.’ Her scrambled brain managed to stutter out. Lambert was making it very hard to concentrate, as he rubbed his leg over hers. What was more annoying was that he was aware of the effect he was having on her, his grin turning wolfish as he ran a hand up her back. 

‘It wouldn’t have anything to do with my _amazing_ sexual prowess would it?’ His eyes danced with mirth and she felt herself grinning back despite her better judgement. 

‘Seriously?’ She said, her tone flat. 

Lambert winked cheekily at her. ‘On a scale of one to ten, how good was I compared to your previous dalliances?’

‘ _Dalliances?’_

‘Your other lovers, Blue eyes. Was I the best? I bet I was.’ She let an annoyed huff and tried to wriggle away from him. The witcher kept his arms clamped around her, his grin widening the more she struggled. ‘You can’t escape, might as well answer.’ 

Ellie tried to kick his legs off her, the need to get away more from pride than necessity, but he hooked his leg higher, over her hip, pulling her lower half flush against him. All her wriggling was now doing interesting things to both their bodies, and she felt the heat in her belly condense as Lambert’s eyes turned hazy with lust.

‘I’d really stop fighting. Otherwise I might have to play rough.’ Ellie paused in her attempts to free herself for just a second, before the tempting threat he had just presented to her became too much to resist. With a broad grin she stopped trying to lean away, instead moving so close to him her cheek was pressed once more against his chest. She felt his muscles relax in surprise at her sudden surrender, then before he could adjust his grip she began to wiggle down into the blankets to duck out of his grasp. She made it to where her nose was somewhere in line with his navel before she felt strong hands move down and grip her by the waist. There was a flurry of limbs, blankets and brief flashes of light before she was slammed onto her back, the pillow beneath her head letting out a small puff of feathers.

Blinking up she stared into the feral grinning face of Lambert as he leered down at her. His thighs were caging her in, his hands planted on each side of her head, a wrist held in each of them. The weight of his body pressed her deeper down into the feather mattress, and no matter how much she struggled now, she couldn’t move a single part of her body except her head. 

‘Get off you idiot!’ She shouted. Thrashing her head from side to side. 

‘I warned you.’ He growled from above her. He gave her a calculated look before moving his hips deliberately against her. Ellie swallowed as she felt the evidence of his still very naked state pressing against her stomach. Her eyes flicked down automatically and Lambert’s leer grew.

‘Now are you going to answer my question? Or am I going to have to _make_ you?’ He moved his hips again and Ellie heard herself groan. A chuckle shook through his body making the whole sensation even more tortuous.

‘Why do you want to know?’ She asked, in a high pitch wail.

‘For my ego. Indulge me Ellie, please.’ _Purgatory_ , when he said her name like that…

‘Fine. You were…very good. I enjoyed my time with you.’ Her head was turned to the side, her eyes screwed shut in an attempt to keep some of her dignity. She felt him lean away from her slightly in response to her answer. Cracking open an eye, she looked up at the witcher currently straddling her. He was staring down at her with a bemused expression.

‘You… _enjoyed_ your time with me? Come on Blue eyes. You sounded like you more than ‘enjoyed’ it last night.’ Her cheeks pulsed with heat, as she felt trapped in this awkward as arse situation.

‘I-I well…I _did._ Sorry Lambert, it was amazing. I just don’t have a very large frame of reference, I’ve only done… _that_ once before…and it’s been a while.’

‘Only…once.’ His eyes grew round with surprise. ‘Seriously?’ 

Her embarrassment turned to annoyance in a nanosecond. ‘Yes, seriously.’ She snapped, trying to squirm out of his grip again. Lambert simply sat on her like a particularly handsome, stubborn boulder, his expression stunned.

‘So last night…was your _second_ time?’ 

‘Well, technically it was my second, third, fourth and fifth time, but yeah. It was.’ His look of surprise slowly morphed into one of gentle affection.

‘You should have told me, I would’ve taken things slower.’ Ellie shook her head.

‘No. I was fine with the speed. You’re a very good…teacher.’ She said, feeling suddenly shy in this vulnerable position. Lambert loosened his grip slightly, not enough to release her, but enough so she could move a bit more under him. He leant down and brushed his nose gently against hers, his voice soft as he murmured, ‘My little blue-eyed demon.’ 

Ellie managed to force one of her hands free and gave him a playful shove to the chest, pushing him upright. ‘Enough of this nice, romantic Lambert. Where’s my sarcastic jackass gone? What have you done with him?’ 

He threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter. ‘Jackass is it? Okay, I’ll give you jackass.’ He grinned down at her, a dangerous glint in his eye. Then with impressive speed he grabbed her by the hips and flipped her over underneath him. She had just enough time to lift her face off the pillow and let out an indignant, ‘Hey!’ Before she felt a harsh, stinging slap to her backside. Ellie wasn’t proud to admit she gave an undignified shriek at the sudden pain, but it hadn’t been hard. It burnt pleasantly where he had hit her, the heat transferring to her belly as she lay face down on the bed. Gentle hands slid around her waist again, and she was pulled up onto her knees. A rough, calloused palm rubbed her stinging flesh carefully.

‘Hmm, I quite like you in this position.’ His voice was low and husky as he continued to rub her, and she felt her insides clench in anticipation. ‘But I think if we stay up here much longer one of my brothers will be sent to fetch us, and I don’t like the thought of them seeing you like this.’ He gave her another, less forceful, tap on the behind, then she felt the bed shift as he disappeared from behind her. 

She stayed like that for a moment. Her arse in the air, her face pressed against the soft furs on the bed. She smiled in private, her expression obscured by her arms, enjoying this instance of bliss for just a few more seconds. Then, with a reluctant sigh, she lifted her head and searched the room for her lover. He was already half dressed. His fingers doing up the lacing on his leather trousers. Tucking her knees up to her chin, she sat on the bed and watched him pad around the room, collecting his scattered clothes wearing only his trousers. She could have happily stared at him for eternity, but the witcher gave her a sideways look before grabbing her discarded dress and tossing it at her.

‘Come on lazy. I’ll fuck you again later, but right now I need you to put some clothes on.’ Ellie snorted from under the dress that was now draped over her head. Pulling it off she made a face at Lambert before dumping it back on the floor, making a mental note to hold him to that promise.

‘Think I’ll put my normal clothes back on if you don’t mind. One night in a dress is more than enough for me.’ She began to root around in the trunk she had stored her only belongings in. The leather trousers she had been leant, Lambert’s tattered white shirt he had given her, and her old shorts. She reached up to her neck at the sight of them, remembering the trinket she had worn to the party. It was still there, hanging from her throat. Carefully she unclasped the sapphire and put it back in its safe place. She glanced up to see Lambert watching her.

‘I like it on you.’ He murmured, almost regretfully as she folded her shorts over it again. 

‘I’d rather it stays somewhere I can’t lose it.’ She replied. He nodded and didn’t say anything else, pulling his black shirt back on. Ellie yanked on her clothes, getting briefly tangled in her shirt and trying to put her head through the arm sleeve. 

‘Here.’ Lambert said, chuckling. He freed her from her predicament, his brow furrowing as he looked at the ripped, dirty garment. ‘Haven’t you found a replacement for that old thing yet?’ 

She gripped the cotton fabric to her protectively. ‘I like it. Besides, I think I’ve had enough hand me downs from Ciri, whomever she is.’ His expression became briefly guarded, and she wondered again who this mysterious girl was. 

‘I can give you another one of mine if you’d prefer.’ He insisted. Ellie rolled her eyes and batted him away.

‘If it makes you feel better, but I thought you wanted us to hurry downstairs before they sent out a search party?’ Lambert huffed, muttering something about ‘stubborn demons’ before grabbing her by the wrist and leading her out of the room. 

Flashbacks from last night’s frantic path through the keep came rushing back to her, as he pulled her behind him. She had been able to sense the tension in the air as he had hurried her to the room, the taste of him still strong on her lips. She touched her free hand to her mouth now, remembering the feel of him and her skin flushed pink in response. Lambert half turned his head as he directed them down the stairs to the main hall.

‘I’d think about something else if I were you. The others will have a riot if you come down smelling like that.’

‘Smelling like what?’ Ellie asked defensively.

‘Like someone who’s begging me to take her back up to that room. Seriously, calm down.’ She flushed even more, not sure if she should feel turned on or outraged right now. 

‘You can smell…when I’m…excited?’ She said. Lambert grinned, slowing down so they could talk better.

‘Yeah, and so can my brothers.’ She held up her arm and took a tentative whiff of her armpit. 

‘I can’t smell anything.’ His grin widened.

‘It’s a witcher thing. Plenty of experience smelling when someone’s hormones are up. Helps in a lot of situations.’ He waggled his eyebrows at the last comment, and Ellie could see now his pupils were slightly blown out as his nostrils flared, taking in a large draw of air. She wanted to cover herself up even though she was fully clothed. This new revelation of one of the witcher’s many hidden talents alarmed and excited her at the same time. 

‘Fine. I’ll think of something else.’ She mumbled. Lambert chuckled as they continued downstairs, and she did her best to fill her head with multiplication tables and fighting stances instead of his naked body. 

The others were already downstairs when they entered, and she wondered what time of day it was. The daylight was coming in strong through the arched windows, but everyone was still sat around the large trestle table eating breakfast, so they clearly weren’t the only late risers. The decorations were up from the night before, although all the candles had burnt out. Her tree looked a little less magical in the cold light of day, its haphazard baubles now more like junk without the glow from the candlelight. She noticed Eskel and Geralt were still in their clothes from last night. Both of them looked up as they approached, Ellie still being led by the wrist. Twin grins stretched across their faces, and Ellie was mortified to see Eskel’s nostrils flare as he smelt them. 

‘Ho ho, here they come. The love birds.’ He joked heartily. ‘Didn’t think we’d see you until spring.’ Lambert gave him a boisterous shove, almost pushing the other witcher clean off the bench he was sitting on.

‘Shut the fuck up.’ He spat, but it only made Eskel’s grin widen. Lambert took a seat opposite him and Geralt. Ellie dithered for a second, not sure what to do. She had never joined them for breakfast before; not needing to eat and never sleeping, she had always just kept working on whatever project she was engrossed in at the time. Lambert looked at up her, one eyebrow raised, then patted the space next to him invitingly. 

‘Sit.’ He commanded, when she didn’t respond. Slowly she sank down next to him, her hands clasped awkwardly in her lap. She was directly opposite Eskel, who’s cheeky grin faded into a small smile as he looked at her. His confession from the previous night came flooding back and her mouth was abruptly very dry. 

‘I was just starting to like you demon, then you go and show how bad your judgement is by choosing this prick.’ Geralt’s dead pan tone belayed the mischievous twinkle in his eye. Lambert let out an honest to goodness growl and aimed a kick under the table. It didn’t reach its target, instead he connected with the solid oak leg of the table. There was a muted thud, the cups and plates jumping with a rattle, and the young witcher hissed in pain, cursing under his breath. Eskel chuckled along with his brother at Lambert’s dramatic reaction, but there was no mirth in it. Ellie felt her stomach sinking. Couldn’t she just make everyone happy for once? 

‘If you children are quite finished?’ Vesemir’s gruff voice broke through the uncomfortable tension. The old witcher moved from the fireplace where he’d been standing to come to the head of the table. Unlike his students he’d changed out of his fancy doublet and back into his studded leather amour. He gave them all a hard stare as he surveyed them. ‘I hope you all enjoyed your party yesterday, cos it’s back to work today boys. I’ll give you ten minutes to finish eating and get into your armour. We’re running drills in fifteen.’ Lambert groaned, gesturing to the full plate he had just gathered. 

‘I’ve only just sat down.’ He grumbled. Vesemir gave him a narrowed eyed look. 

‘That’s not my problem. Better eat quickly.’ His eyes flicked to Ellie, but instead of looking at her sternly he gave her a sly wink provoking a smile from her. Lambert grumbled further into his plate of food, before preceding to shovel its contents into his mouth. She stared in disbelief at the display, and both Vesemir and Geralt laughed at her shocked expression.

The witchers lapsed into silence as they continued the important task of finishing breakfast. Even though she had nothing in front of her, Ellie felt contented just being a part of their group. Sure, there was a weird thing going on now between her and Eskel, Geralt still was a little distant and she had absolutely no idea what her and Lambert’s relationship now meant, but for now there was peace and she would enjoy it.

‘Morning boys.’ Yennefer’s voice carried from across the hall. She strode gracefully towards them. A completely different black and white dress on from the night before. She wondered if the sorceress owned any other colours in her extensive wardrobe. 

‘I see our couple of the night has decided to join us.’ She finished, coming to a stop behind Geralt’s shoulder. 

‘Careful Yen. Lambert’s already attacked most of us for gossiping.’ Geralt’s voice was serious but there was that glint still in his eye. 

‘And I’m not above attacking a woman, so fair warning witch.’ Lambert snarked. Yennefer shot Ellie a look which plainly said ‘ _him…really?’_ and beckoned her with one manicured finger. 

‘I’m here for the lady in question anyway. If you’re not busy dear, I’d like a chat.’ Ellie had half risen before Lambert’s hand gripped her thigh, holding her in place.

‘What’s this about?’ He asked, all trace of sarcasm gone. Ellie looked down at him in alarm, his face was dark, his scent suddenly eye stingingly strong.

‘Whoa, steady there lover boy.’ Eskel said. Everyone around the table had stopped eating and were watching him cautiously. Yen’s violet eyes narrowed, she was about to retort when Vesemir interjected.

‘Let the girl go Lambert. She won’t come to harm with Yennefer.’ His tone brokered no argument but Ellie saw the tell-tale signs of an outburst on her witcher’s face. When he didn’t move his hand, Vesemir thumped his down on the table, hard. ‘Enough of this. You’re old enough now to not act like a territorial whelp. Nothing’s going to happen to her while she’s out of your sight.’ 

A tingling sensation tickled her skin as she reached down and encouraged him to let her get up. ‘It’s alright. I won’t be long.’ Her voice was gentler than Vesemir’s but she also left him no room to negotiate with her. He gave her a sharp look but relented. 

As soon as she was up and away from the table, the atmosphere lifted. Still, there was a lingering effect that signalled something significant had just happened. Vesemir sighed, and rose from the table. 

‘Everyone finished? Let’s go before we lose the whole day.’ There were a few groans of protest but to a man the witchers got up and began to gather their armour and weapons. Yen caught her attention as they busied themselves.

‘I see you and Lambert are quite the couple now. I’ll be in my room when you’re ready. There’s some news on our experiment.’ She winked and swept away towards the tower stairs. Before Ellie could process what she’d said Eskel was suddenly next to her. He must have gotten ready in record time, as the others were still organising themselves and he was already changed. 

‘You look happy El.’ Eskel said, his voice low so the others couldn’t hear. Her mouth was dry again, and she flicked a worried glance towards Lambert who mercifully hadn’t noticed his brother’s close proximity to her.

‘Eskel, I didn’t mean…I don’t want you to think...’ He held up a hand to silence her.

‘It’s okay. You shouldn’t feel guilty. It’s always been him, I get it.’ His smile touching his eyes. ‘I just wanted you to know my feelings before it was too late to say it.’ He glanced over his shoulder at the witcher in question. ‘Lambert’s made it perfectly clear how serious this is. I won’t step on my brother’s toes.’ 

Ellie had the suspicion he was referring to the odd encounter at the breakfast table. ‘Yeah, what was that just now?’ She asked tentatively. 

Eskel shrugged, but she could tell he felt uncomfortable. ‘Lambert’s very protective of the things he cares about. You should see him when one of us tries to use his boat.’ Her mouth opened and closed rapidly, unsure how to respond to the comment. He stared at her in confusion for a moment, then laughed and turned away. ‘Good luck with him anyway.’ He shot back, just as Geralt and Lambert caught up with him, heading for the main door.

‘What was that, dickhead?’ Lambert snapped, aiming a punch for Eskel’s side. The scarred witcher easily dodged and laughed louder at his younger brother’s rage. All the while Geralt kept stoic and silent next to the bickering pair. She watched the group as they walked away, laughing and bantering like brothers, and wondered how long it would take for this happiness and peace to come to an end.

* * *

It took until the end of winter. When the snows had begun to recede and the temperature had risen to a bearable level. She was only grateful she was allowed some time with Lambert, the two of them finding every opportunity to be together. Ever since she had decided to give in to her feelings, they had become almost inseparable. She went to morning drills with him, Vesemir eventually growing tired of her watching from the side-lines and insisting she join them. Sparring with the witchers improved her fighting style markedly, and once or twice she had been paired with Lambert, giving her the opportunity to pay him back for their first encounter. These sessions usually ended in a weird tension between them, followed by the two of them disappearing for a few hours in a hidden part of the keep. After a few times of this happening Vesemir kept them apart during training. 

She also loved to watch him make bombs. There was something about the way his large, capable hands measured the dangerous ingredients, and carefully placed them in the containers that made her shiver. His fingers moved with a delicate grace and when she told him why she loved staring at them, he answered by showing her another use for his dexterous hands. 

Time had no meaning anymore in Kaer Morhen. Ellie wasn’t sure how long she had actually been in this world, but her old life and home seemed like a distant dream. Since Yennefer’s experiment to see if she could lure the mysterious entity out of hiding, there had been no new developments in that area. She and Triss were still looking, but with no new leads the investigation into why Ellie was there had become less urgent. She felt herself settling into an easy rhythm, the keep becoming her new home, the witchers and two sorceresses more like family. 

Dandelion had brought a new kind of life to the old witcher keep that Ellie enjoyed. He had stayed for a week after the Imbaelk/Christmas party, regaling her with tales of his and Geralt’s adventures. He certainly had a flare for weaving a vivid picture, and there were many times that Geralt had stopped the bard mid flow in exasperation, clarifying that wasn’t how it happened. Regardless of his embellishments, Ellie always enjoyed listening to him, especially when he sang. 

She had been sad when he had finally had to leave the keep. His fans in Novigrad would miss him, he claimed, but she could tell he was reluctant too. Before he had gone off with Yen to be ‘portalled’ out of there he had pulled her aside, an unusually serious expression on his face.

‘Look after Lambert.’ He had said, his tone deadpan, none of the usual flamboyance in it. ‘The guy’s a prick and an idiot, but he cares a lot about you. I’d hate to see him heartbroken again.’ 

She had blinked, taken aback by this sudden concern for the witcher. Dandelion had rarely talked to him, but the look he was giving her now reminded her of Eskel’s talk in the dungeons her first night there.

‘S-sure. I care about him too you know.’ 

The bard smiled. ‘I can see that. You two make quite the pair. Maybe I’ll write a ballad about you. I could call it…The Witcher and the Demon.’ He waved his hand dramatically in front of him, his eyes misty as he visualised his new masterpiece. Ellie felt the blood drain from her face at the thought, but Dandelion had already walked away, his sunny smile back in place.

‘See you round, fair Eleanor.’ He had called back over his shoulder. She had thought about asking Lambert about what Dandelion had said, but something in her was frightened to know who had broken his heart before her. 

Things settled back into a routine after that, even her friendship with Eskel had returned to some kind of normality. There had been a wary tension between him and Lambert for a few days after the party, but that soon petered out when he made no more advances on her. He even teased them along with Geralt, especially when she was training with them. 

Lambert had discussed her joining him on the Path again, once the pass was clear. Although she didn’t like the thought of her time in Kaer Morhen with the others coming to an end, it was better than talk of her returning to her own world. Late at night, once they had exhausted themselves, she and Lambert would talk about it, and Ellie almost started to forget that she was a stranger in this strange land. That was, until she was suddenly reminded in a very unpleasant turn of events.

The day was warmer than usual, the smell of spring strong in the air. The real festival of Imbaelk was just around the corner, and there was a constant air of activity permeating the keep. The witchers were growing restless, the Path was calling them to it once more. Eskel was down in the lower yard, busy cleaning his swords for what felt like the seventh time that day. Ellie was with him, swinging her practice staff at the dummies half-heartedly, keeping her friend company whilst she waited for Lambert to join her. They were about to go out to the newly thawed lake and she was impatient, scenting the air for him every few seconds. It was because of this she smelt them before she saw them. Unfamiliar scents on the breeze, coming from the main gate to the keep. Eskel sensed them a second after she did, he was on his feet, sword freshly polished in hand and next to her in a heartbeat.

‘Stay here El.’ He said, moving towards the open gate. She stood in place, her limbs twitching with nervous energy. Glancing back up towards the keep she couldn’t see Lambert, or any of the others. Her nostrils flared as she tried to decipher who or what was approaching. They smelt human, but not completely. There were roughly five or six of them, and they all had spicy or herby scents mixed in. Witchers. Unable to let Eskel face them alone, Ellie followed. He was already at the gate, a dark scowl making his already scarred face more sinister. 

None of them were familiar to her, except one, the scent grew in strength as she approached. The high citrus note of lemongrass hit her senses and made her freeze. Memories of an abandoned farm house, the sharp pain of a crossbow bolt, and the weight of him pressing her into the hard ground, made the bile rise in her throat. She forced her feet to continue on as Eskel began to speak.

‘You better have a good reason for turning up here unannounced.’ In a daze she stepped up behind him, being careful to keep as much to the shadows as possible. A group of armed men stood in the doorway, Eskel’s lone figure their only obstruction. They were all dressed in similar armour save one, a hulking witcher, almost double the size of Eskel. He had two sharply curved daggers strapped to his front and a bald head with a vicious scar across it, but he wasn’t the one she was looking for. _He_ was stood next to the giant, his crossbow slung across his back, his face set in a sneer of hatred as he looked at the witcher blocking his way. She was hugging the wall of the entrance way, but witcher eyes are superior to most. Gaetan’s gaze snapped to her instantly as she moved into view, a wicked smile twisting his face as he spoke past Eskel directly to her.

‘I promised we’d meet again demon, and I always keep my promises.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before...ahh, don't you just love it. Here you are my beautiful readers, another week another chapter. Thanks to all you returning, and hello to all the new ones. There are quite a few of you. Welcome to the Lambert appreciation club. :)


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Lambert knew something was wrong even before he smelt them. He had been gathering supplies for his date with Ellie on the lake, when an ominous foreboding feeling crept up his spine. He had paused, mid step in the main hall. His senses on red alert as he tried to pinpoint exactly what had got his hackles up. His medallion was still, but there was a tugging in his gut that told him whatever was going on it involved her.

Breaking into a sprint, he tore through the doors leading out into the upper courtyard. Geralt and Vesemir were stood talking, both of them whipping round to face him as he flew past them.

‘What in Melitele’s name is the matter?’ Vesemir barked. Lambert didn’t slow as he shouted back over his shoulder.

‘Something’s wrong. Ellie’s in trouble.’ He didn’t look back to see if they had got the message, ploughing on through the second yard, jumping the wall to save time. He was vaguely aware of two sets of pursuing footsteps as he came to the archway that separated the second yard from the lower one. He scanned the training ground for movement, certain he had left her next to the training dummies when he had gone back to retrieve his gear. There was no one. Feeling his heartbeat rise in panic, he strained his senses to get some idea of what was happening. That was when he got a whiff of the uninvited guests. 

They were concentrated around the main gate to the keep and now, aware of their location, he could hear raised voices coming from that direction. Geralt and Vesemir caught up with him just as he took off again at full speed.

‘Gods damn it all Lambert. What’s happe-‘ Vesemir began, his abrupt cut off signalling he too had become aware of the strange scents. ‘With me Geralt.’ He finished, and Lambert heard them follow. 

He slowed to a brisk walk as he entered the entrance tunnel, connecting the main gate of the keep to the lower yard. Eskel was stood facing the open gateway, his sword drawn and held defensively in front of him. Whomever was out there was blocked by his intimidating presence, but it was the much smaller figure pressed against the wall behind him that Lambert was focused on. He was next to her in three quick strides, his eyes sweeping over her, taking in her tense posture. The scent of her fear and distress was sickening, and he felt his hackles rise further until he was practically snarling down at her. 

‘What’s up Blue eyes?’ He said tersely. His jaw so tight from supressed panic that it was hard getting the words out. She glanced up at him, her eyes wide and a worrying deep-sea blue. Only one word left her by way of reply, but it was enough to set Lambert’s teeth on edge, his skin tightening with anger.

‘Gaetan.’ She whispered. His head snapped round to look at the gathered men for the first time. He could see in an instant that they were all witchers. The majority from the School of the Cat judging by their armour, only one was different. A great hulking mass of muscle, two daggers strapped to his front, his amber eyes hidden in deep set sockets. Lambert had never met the witcher but he knew of him through Geralt’s tales. This was Letho, from the School of the Viper. A formidable killing machine, of monsters and often times, men. Nicknamed the Kingslayer. Next to him stood the far less intimidating, but no more welcome sight of Gaetan. The cat recognised Lambert, his face stretching into a menacing sneer.

‘Well met wolf. I see you decided to keep your little pet instead of finishing your contract on her. Is the demon really that good in the sack?’ 

Lambert moved up with lightning speed next to his brother, his steel sword already half drawn. ‘What did you say you fucking whoreson? How ‘bout I cut that smirk off your ugly fucking face and see who many whores agree to fuck you after that?’ 

‘Lambert.’ Eskel’s warning was low, and half hearted. He could feel the anger emanating from his usually calm brother in waves. Obviously, the cat’s insult had struck a nerve with him as well.

Gaetan simply snorted, his nostrils flaring as he smelt the air. ‘Argh, fuck.’ He exclaimed, his face contorting into one of disgust. ‘You reek of sulphur wolf. You really are fucking that _thing_ aren’t you? Sick.’ 

Lambert’s anger was white hot and instant. He didn’t even have enough cognitive ability left to form words as he lunged for the other witcher. A feral growl ripping from between his clenched teeth, as he unsheathed his sword and swung it towards Gaetan’s leering face. There was a brief moment where he thought he was actually going to connect with the witcher’s skull, so sudden was his attack. However, just as the blade came whistling down towards his quarry there was a ringing clang, of metal on metal and his sword was stopped in mid-air. Lambert easily absorbed the shock of the abrupt stop in his arms, but he could feel the force of it rippling throughout his body. Glancing to the side he saw Letho had moved and was now mere inches away from him, his figure towering over Lambert, the glowing amber sparks of his eyes barely visible in the shadows of his face. One of his tree truck sized arms was extended and he could now see that the monstrous witcher had blocked his sword with one of his daggers. 

‘Hold wolf. Unless you want to turn this into a massacre.’ Letho said, his voice a rumbling monotone. Almost as if he were bored of the entire situation. Lambert snarled at him, his vision clouded with red, his blood lust for Gaetan still hot in his veins.

‘Enough. Stand down Lambert. Let’s hear what they want.’ Vesemir’s command rang out behind him. Reluctantly he stepped back, lowering his sword but glaring fiercely at Gaetan and Letho.

‘I know what they want.’ He spat, keeping his body between the cat and Ellie. 

‘We’re here to collect on a contract, and you’re harbouring a marked monster in your keep. Not exactly abiding by the witcher code are you, wolves?’ Gaetan’s gaze had moved past Lambert to stare at where Vesemir was stood over his shoulder. 

‘Code? Never thought I’d here a cat so invested in a _code._ Tell me, was it a code that you were all following when you betrayed us at the witcher tournament and slaughtered my brothers?’ The tension amongst the group rose, as to a man the witchers wearing cat armour bristled. 

‘We aren’t here to talk about the past.’ Gaetan snarled. Vesemir moved so he was level with Lambert. The young witcher caught his stern expression out of the corner of his eye.

‘No, you aren’t. But I can’t forget it when you arrive here unannounced, uninvited, threatening people in my care.’ 

‘People? I thought that thing was meant to be a demon?’ Letho interjected, casting Gaetan a questioning look.

‘It _is_ a demon. And it’s got every single one of these weak-minded fools under its influence. Are you fucking all of them, demon?!’ He raised his voice, craning past Lambert to try and see the girl hidden behind him.

‘Watch your tongue you stinking sewer rat before I cut it out.’ Lambert hissed, raising his sword to eye level again. Vesemir held out a hand to quiet him. The rage inside him was like a white-hot poker, searing his blood and screaming at him to make these whoresons run screeching from their doorway like stuck pigs. It made obeying his teacher all the harder as Vesemir took another step towards them, his hands clasped casually behind his back.

‘I would really appreciate if you stop insulting my guest, what was it? Gaetan? Fact is, the demon is within the protection of our keep and therefore belongs to us. If Lambert, who I believe was the first to take out a contract on her head, decides he wishes to fulfil it then it is his pleasure to do so, but I cannot allow you to take someone who I’ve promised sanctuary to while she resides here.’ He took another step until he was nose to nose with Gaetan. ‘There’s a code for you, seeing as you’re so invested in them, all of a sudden.’

Lambert could hear Gaetan’s teeth grinding together as he glared at Vesemir. The older witcher didn’t even blink as the other seethed in front of him. ‘I have a lot of respect for you old timer, but we don’t ask your permission. We’ll take the creature by force if we have to.’ Letho said in his bored monotone, unsheathing his other dagger as if to highlight his point.

‘Letho?’ Geralt said. The giant witcher looked at his old acquaintance, shrugging. 

‘Sorry Geralt, but these guys hired me to do a job, and you know me…money’s money.’ 

‘Hmm.’ Geralt said by way of response, and Lambert could hear his brother’s disdain in that one syllable.

‘I don’t want a fight, but if you insist on continuing down that path, we will have no choice but to defend what is ours.’ Vesemir said slowly. The tension ramped up further as the prospect of a brawl loomed. 

_Good,_ thought Lambert, _let them come._ He kept his eyes locked on Gaetan, the first one he would kill. There was an almost calming thrumming noise in his head, as he let his territorial rage build. The need to protect Ellie consuming him. 

_They will not take her from me._ He chanted, the grip on his sword tightening. The only regret he had was having his brothers involved. Eskel would kill for Blue eyes as easily as he would, but Geralt and Vesemir shouldn’t die for his choices. Still, he couldn’t think about them now, he just had to think about killing as many of these whoresons as he could and getting Ellie to safety.

The other witchers were reaching for their weapons. There were four others he didn’t recognise from the School of the Cat, along with Gaetan and Letho making it six. Witchers were so few and far between these days that it was impressive he had managed to gather so many. An ominous thought crossed his mind, what was the price on Blue eyes to get the attention of so many of his kind?

Gaetan leered at Lambert as he drew his own sword, it was obvious the time for talk was over. These fuckers weren’t leaving without a fight. ‘I’m gonna’ enjoy killing you demon fucker.’ He snarled. 

Lambert felt his own lips curl up, baring his teeth. ‘Likewise.’ He gritted out, preparing to strike low, going for the whoreson’s legs first.

‘Stop this!’ Ellie’s voice rang out. Lambert turned, fearful that she had left the safety of the keep’s gate and was coming towards him, but she was stood in the archway, her eyes a storm-tossed navy. ‘No one is going to die for me today.’

‘Surrendering would make things easier, although…I do love a good fight.’ Letho said, easing his tense stance, his daggers held loosely at his side. 

‘I’m _not_ surrendering.’ Ellie responded, her tone was commanding. Not a trace of fear in it. Lambert felt his heart swell with pride, and a sliver of dread at what she was planning.

‘Then we’ll take you by force demon. The contract wanted you alive, but we can deliver you in pieces and still get a good price.’ It took every ounce of strength for Lambert not to swing for Gaetan again. The cat had turned his attention to the girl, his amber eyes blazing with unconcealed hatred.

‘Let’s make a deal.’ She said calmly. The witchers all turned to stare at her.

‘Ellie?’ Vesemir’s voice was low with warning. She ignored him, her eyes fixed on Gaetan.

‘Pfft, if you think I’m making a deal with _you_ , you’re as crazy as these traitors.’ 

‘Make this deal and you’ll have a better chance of collecting your contract than if you try and fight your way to me. There may be more of you, but if you harm any of my friends I _promise_ I won’t go down without making it extremely hard for you first.’ Gaetan deliberated for a moment. One of the other cats leant forward and murmured low in his ear. 

‘Be careful brother, you shouldn’t trust a demon.’ Gaetan waved the other witcher away. 

‘What’s the deal?’ Ellie smiled, but it wasn’t her normal sunny grin, this was a bitter, nasty smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

‘I’ll give you seven days to try and capture or kill me. If any of you manage to do so, you can have me, and no one here will retaliate against you.’ 

‘Like fuck we won’t!’ Lambert erupted. What was she doing? Did she really think they’d just let these fuckers waltz into Kaer Morhen and take her from them? _From him!_

‘No. You won’t.’ She said, her glare flashing to him. Lambert glared right back, trying to convey his disapproval at her plan through a look alone. 

‘And what do you get out of this?’ Gaetan asked, interrupting their domestic.

‘If none of you capture or kill me by the end of the seven days, you leave, and never come back.’ Gaetan smiled, glancing round at the group with him. Lambert felt a cold stone of fear settle in his stomach.

‘I want to add my own terms.’ He finally said, jutting his chin out. An arrogant, begging to be punched, expression on his face. 

‘Of course.’ She replied.

Gaetan’s eyes scanned him and his brothers, still stood in a protective arc in front of the girl. Lambert felt Eskel bristle under his stare, the usually diplomatic witcher emanating an aura of loathing. He had felt uncomfortable with his brother’s infatuation with Ellie for a long time, but right now he was never more grateful for the steadfast ally in keeping her safe.

‘Firstly, you leave the keep.’ 

‘Go fuck yourself, you slimy feline.’ Lambert spat, taking a step forward. Letho appeared in front of him, blocking his line of sight with Gaetan. The towering witcher stared down at him with those sunken pits for eyes and shook his head slowly. Lambert ground his teeth together in frustration.

‘Secondly, you don’t use any weapons, or get any aid from your wolf bodyguards. It’s just you versus us. Monster versus witchers. Agreed?’ 

‘Not exactly a fair fight.’ Geralt said. His sudden contribution earning him a sour glare from Gaetan. 

‘Agreed.’ Ellie’s answer took all of them aback, all of the wolves that was. Gaetan’s arrogant smirk grew and he gave a triumphant look to his gathered crew. Eskel and Lambert both erupted at the same time.

‘El, don’t be stupid. We can take them!’

‘If you think I’m gonna’ let you go through with this Blue eyes, you’ve got another fucking thing coming!’

Ellie’s eyes darkened to a deep blue, bordering on black. The air growing hotter around them. ‘Shut up! Both of you. I’m not asking for your permission, and I won’t let a massacre happen because of me.’ She stepped out of the shadow of the gateway, and weaved between Vesemir and Lambert’s shoulders to stand in front of Gaetan. He flinched back as she held her hand out to him, and Lambert couldn’t help smirking at the sign of weakness from the witcher. Still, that fear was weighing him down, pushing on his chest. She was strong and capable, but alone against six witchers? Even he had his doubts whether she would make it through this. He knew Ellie; he knew she wouldn’t change her mind if it meant keeping him safe. She was stubborn like that. It was why he loved her.

‘Seven days. If I catch any of _you_ , you’re out. You catch _me,_ and I’m yours.’ Lambert felt helpless. He watched in slow motion as Gaetan raised his hand towards hers.

‘You have a deal demon.’ He said, an unmistakable smug note to his voice. In his head, he’d already won. 

He gripped Ellie’s forearm, and she clasped his. The girl’s slender fingers tightened around the muscle of his arm for a brief moment, the air becoming unbearably hot and metallic on his tongue. He registered the shock on Gaetan’s face just as he saw Ellie’s eyes turn an ominous, inky black. She was withdrew her arm, sliding her fingers along the witcher’s skin. Gaetan let out a yelp of surprise and snapped his hand back, but not before Lambert saw the vivid scarlet mark on his inner wrist. It glowed red for a second before dimming. Like a brand. It bared a resemblance to Ellie’s own mark; a perfect triangle but instead of two more triangles inside it, there was a cross instead.

‘Bitch.’ Gaetan swore, staring in outrage at the mark she had left. Lambert frowned, unsure what it all meant, but as he looked over his shoulder at the others he saw Geralt’s eyes focused on Gaetan’s new scar with an intensity that alarmed him. 

‘The deal is done.’ Ellie said solemnly. Her eyes drifting back from black just enough to see a glimmer of blue in them again. ‘The hunt begins at sunset. I’ll leave Kaer Morhen then.’

Without another word she turned and walked back into the keep. Lambert watched her go, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. What had she done?

‘Gentlemen, for obvious reasons I won’t be inviting you to stay in the keep. I’m sure you’ll be able to find somewhere comfortable in the forest now that the snows are easing.’ Vesemir’s tone was light, but his look was as cold and unyielding as steel. The old witcher gave the gathered group one last cursory sweep before turning and following Ellie back inside. 

Geralt shadowed him, his shoulders tense. Then it was just Eskel and him left. His scarred, older brother gave them all a venomous look, before spitting on the ground near Gaetan’s feet. 

‘Coward.’ He said darkly. Stalking off, but not before giving Lambert a similarly deadly glance. _Blames me, does he? Jackass._ He thought.

‘We’ll get your freaky demon girlfriend, wolf.’ Lambert’s head swung back round to zero in on Gaetan. The cat witcher grinned nastily at him. ‘And then, deal or not, we’ll be back to finish you…traitor.’ 

With a control that Vesemir would have been proud of, Lambert analysed each of the witcher’s faces with an impassive look. He memorised every scar, every feature, every detail of them. Storing it away for future reference. Then he looked back at Gaetan, his mouth twisting into an equally ugly sneer as he leant into him. 

‘And deal or not, I’ll be looking forward to it.’ He hissed. Then, quick as a flash, he moved back inside the keep and made sure to send the heavy wooden gate crashing down in their faces.

* * *

‘What the fuck were you thinking?!’

‘I was thinking I didn’t want to see you all risk your necks for me. I can look after myself. Unable to die, remember?’ Lambert let out a laboured breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as his anger threatened to cloud his judgement.

‘Yes, you’re unable to die, but you heard them. The contract wants you alive! Whoever hired them knows what you are and needs you for something. And you just want to gift wrap yourself and hand yourself over?’ Ellie let out her own heavy sigh.

‘No, I intend to win.’ Eskel shifted awkwardly next to the fighting couple.

‘No offence El, but alone, with no weapons, against six of them. The odds aren’t great.’ 

‘I agree with him.’ Lambert said, jabbing a thumb towards his brother. Eskel gave him a filthy look. 

‘Well, no offence, I’m pretty sure some of you would’ve died, if not been seriously injured if I’d let you fight back there. So, I came up with something with less collateral damage.’ She glared at the two of them, arms crossed defiantly in front of her. Lambert wanted to shake her. Force some sense back into her head.

‘It’s a good plan.’ Vesemir’s gruff voice made them all turn. He was stood a few feet away, Geralt, Merigold and Yennefer behind him. ‘If you can evade them for that long.’

He gave Lambert a warning look as he walked towards them. The young witcher bit his tongue. ‘My child, are you sure about this? Facing off against six experienced witchers without weapons sounds like a fool’s errand. At least take something to defend yourself with.’

Ellie shook her head. ‘The deal is made. If I renege on it now I will be forfeit to them.’ Her face split into a wide smile. ‘Besides, I don’t need a weapon to evade or incapacitate them. I’ll have the forest.’

Vesemir looked about as convinced by her statement as Lambert felt, but he didn’t say anything else. Eskel huffed in frustration. 

‘Why did you give them so long as well? A whole _week_?’ He said. 

‘I needed them to accept the deal. They wouldn’t have gone for it if I gave them less time.’ She smiled at them serenely, her eyes still a darker shade of blue than Lambert would have liked. ‘I appreciate all your concern, but I’ll be fine. Either I’ll force them to leave or they’ll take me off your hands. All that matters is you’re all safe.’

Lambert opened his mouth to protest but before he could an imperious voice cut in. ‘What a very noble and sanctimonious demon you are.’ All eyes turned to Yennefer. She swayed towards them, her mouth pulled into a bitchy sneer. ‘Did it ever cross your mind that this was what we’ve been waiting for?’

‘They aren’t demons Yen, I would’ve known.’ Ellie said, her tone defensive.

‘But they might be working for one. If you leave the keep and they catch you, we might not be able to help.’ Lambert had to admit that even he agreed with Yennefer on this occasion. All of his fears and anger at the situation had just been voiced by the witch.

‘I’ve already asked too much of you all.’ Ellie muttered, her eyes flicking up to meet his. 

‘It’s too late to change things now, like you said. What’s done is done. We can’t assist you, but we can certainly keep an eye on things.’ Vesemir had taken charge, addressing the gathered group of witchers and sorceresses. ‘We’ll patrol the forest. At least if anything unexpected happens we’ll know about it.’ 

‘I’ll take the first watch.’ Lambert said before Vesemir had even finished speaking. The old witcher eyed him sceptically for a moment, before nodding his head.

‘Fine. Eskel will take over once the sun is up.’ 

He could feel Ellie staring at him but he wasn’t about to let her force his hand anymore. She had put herself in this position without consulting him, he’d at least be able to keep an eye on her.

‘You can’t do anything if they win you know. That was part of the deal.’ A long silence followed Ellie’s words. It was broken not by Lambert, but by Eskel kicking out at a nearby brazier. It clattered loudly, sparks flying from the sudden disturbance, the flame inside flickering wildly.

‘Shit. So, we just stand by as they drag you away in chains, or worse…in pieces?’ 

‘Yes.’ She said simply. Lambert could feel a pressure building behind his eyes as he looked at his brother. His unvented anger from earlier simmering under the surface of his uneasy acceptance of Ellie’s choice. Vesemir broke the tension in his usual fashion, by avoiding the subject entirely. 

‘The sun is not long from setting child. You should prepare what you can before you need to leave.’ 

She sighed heavily. ‘No need. I’ll slip away now if it’s all the same to you.’ She walked over to Lambert, ignoring everyone’s awkward looks as she placed a gentle hand on his arm. ‘Please don’t do anything stupid.’ 

‘You know I can’t promise that when it comes to you.’ He growled, cupping her cheek with his palm. She gave him a sad smile, her eyes soft as he leant down to kiss her. It was slow and passionate, enough to convey his disapproval of the whole thing but not too much to sour the tender moment. He didn’t care that the others were still there, let them see…especially Eskel. Too soon for his liking she broke away. Her eyes drifted open, her smile a little less sad now.

‘Don’t _make_ me do anything stupid Blue eyes.’ He said, his voice husky from the kiss.

‘I’ll see you in seven days.’ She whispered back, her own kind of promise, before leaving them all stood awkwardly in the hall.

‘What now?’ Eskel said, breaking the silence.

‘Now, we watch and wait.’ Vesemir said, folding his arms. ‘Just hope the girl knows what she’s letting herself in for.’ Lambert felt the bile rise in his throat as the truth in Vesemir’s words sunk in. Yennefer let out a derisive snort before sweeping off to her tower. Merigold fidgeted, her expression desperate.

‘Maybe there’s a protection spell I can use?’

‘No, she said we weren’t to intervene and we won’t.’ Vesemir said sternly. The sorceress glanced at Geralt who was stood rigid and immovable next to her.

‘The mark she left on that witcher’s arm, you said you’d seen something like it before?’

‘Yes, on me.’ Lambert frowned, giving his brother a mistrustful look. ‘It’s binding. Whatever they agreed upon, the witcher will be held to it as much as she will. We should just let events play out.’ 

‘Fine. Gods protect her.’ The old witcher huffed, turning stiffly and leaving them. Geralt and Merigold followed soon after, until it was just him and Eskel left. The two witchers stared at each other sullenly.

‘We’re not seriously going to let them take her if they win, are we?’ Eskel’s voice sounded hollow in Lambert’s ears. The pent-up rage and frustration making it hard to think sensibly about anything. 

‘You heard her. Don’t do anything stupid.’ 

‘We can make it look like an accident.’ There was an edge to his voice that made Lambert’s hackles rise. An accusatory look in his eyes that had the younger witcher clenching his hands into fists.

‘Look, I don’t know how demon shit like that works. It could back fire and end up hurting her.’ 

‘But we at least have to _try_ …’

‘Shut the fuck up Eskel. Stop trying to make me feel guilty for just happened.’ Eskel’s expression darkened.

‘I was ready to _fight_ them Lambert. They came to _my_ home and threatened _my_ …’. Lambert took a deliberate step towards him. 

‘Your what, exactly?’ Eskel let out a laboured sigh, the tension leaking out of him.

‘My friend.’ 

‘Is that so?’ Lambert bit out between clenched teeth. He had wanted to punch something since that whoreson Gaetan had shown his ugly face, and his brother’s dangerously personal reaction to Ellie’s agreement was really pissing him off. 

‘I’ve not said anything about the shit you pulled during the celebration, but you better back the fuck off Eskel.’ There was a flash of challenge in the scarred witcher’s eyes, but it subsided instantly.

‘Sorry Lambert. I over stepped. I’m just worried about El.’ The fight went out of him the moment he saw the pathetic figure Eskel suddenly was. He had always liked him above his other witcher brothers. His gentle, easy nature hard to hate, even for him. The last thing he wanted was for them to grow apart because of something they could agree on; that Ellie’s safety was paramount.

‘It’s fine.’ He said, unclenching his fists and rubbing a hand on his neck. ‘We’ll do like Vesemir said, watch and wait. _If_ she fucks it, we’ll revisit that accident idea of yours.’ Relief flooded Eskel’s face, and the ghost of smile pulled at his mouth. ‘If these fuckers think they can wander in and take what they want, we’ll make sure they regret even being born.’ Lambert grinned nastily. 

Eskel’s smile stretched wide in answer. ‘That’s more like the Lambert I know.’ He said, his eyes reflecting back the fierce determination Lambert felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like I said, our moment of peace is over. Strap in folks and enjoy the ride. Thanks for all your lovely comments as usual, they feed my imagination and keep me writing. See you next week! :)


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Seven days was a long time. At least it felt that way to Lambert. Unable to help, only watch, as a gang of witchers tried to hunt down his lover. It made him want to slaughter an entire kingdom of drowners. Hacking his way through the bodies until he felt in control again. Unfortunately, all he had to release his anger was the training dummies or his brothers; both of which he beat to within an inch of their life on multiple occasions. If he’d had it his way, he’d be constantly on patrol in the forest, keeping an eye on events, but Vesemir forbid it.

When he was allowed out, it was almost impossible to spy on them anyway. The witchers were scattered to maximise their chances of catching the demon girl, and Ellie herself, well she had all but vanished into thin air. He tried to track her a few times, searching for her scent, looking for tell-tale signs of movement through the wilderness surrounding Kaer Morhen but there was no trace of her. The only time he thought he might be close was when he got that familiar feeling of her soft blue eyes on his back as he walked between the trees. 

To say Lambert felt like a wounded and cornered animal was an underestimate. With each passing day he became more agitated. Waiting for her to walk back through the gate once the seven days was up, or worse…not. The only sign that a hunt was actually going on was when Eskel had returned with news that he had seen one of the cat witchers camped about a mile out from the keep. He had been severely injured and there was a mark similar to the one Ellie had given to Gaetan, on his cheek. 

‘Must have tagged him out.’ Geralt mused, an impressed look in his eye. ‘Well done Ellie.’

‘One down, five to go.’ Lambert muttered, his mood no more improved by his brother’s news. 

‘As far as we know.’ Eskel replied, giving him a level look. Since their confrontation the air had been partially cleared between the two witchers. Lambert knew he could trust Eskel not to try and make a move on Ellie now he was with her, but his protective nature towards her had pissed him off. Now the scarred witcher had backed off from him completely, although there was still an air of wariness.

‘And still no sign Gaetan or Letho.’ Geralt said. 

These were the two they were most concerned about. Gaetan for his single-minded tenacity when it came to Blue eyes, and Letho for his infamous reputation as an efficient assassin. The viper witchers were renowned for their willingness to take contracts on anything or anyone. In later years they were more valued for killing men than monsters. Geralt himself had worked with Letho, so had first-hand experience of the man’s abilities. 

‘Ellie’s clever, she’ll be fine.’ Merigold piped up from where she was sat across the room. Lambert’s nose wrinkled but he didn’t throw his usual abuse at the sorceress. Instead he gave her hard look before replying in a sombre voice. 

‘I hope you’re right about that.’

* * *

The forest floor was cold and hard beneath the pads of her bare feet. The winter snows not completely thawed in the shade of the dense canopy. Ellie flitted through the trees, keeping to the deepest shadows. She only moved at night, knowing the witchers needed a special potion to see clearly in the dark, whereas her demon eyes were suited the inky blackness. During the day she would hide high up in the mountains, finding a cave or an alcove to settle in. The snows up there were still thick and she influenced the weather just enough to encourage a heavy snow storm or two, to obscure her tracks. These times were the worst for her. Huddled in the freezing cold, hugging her knees to her chest, only her memories of Lambert to warm her.

The creatures that occupied the valley were a good source of entertainment, and also helped alert her if something was getting too close. She would watch the harpies circling high above the lake, their feathered wings and clawed feet making them look like deformed birds from a distance. She had watched a forktail one morning wheeling high on the thermals above her, its lonely cries echoing off the unforgiving rock. Ellie felt a strange affinity to them all. Out of the keep and away from the others she felt the link with her human side weakening. Out here in the wilds, running from her hunters, she was as much a monster to them as the forktail.

At night, she ventured down. Not just to warm her bones from their frigid state but to track the ones hunting her and if given the opportunity, take them out of the game. She could potentially get through the process by just hiding, but she was certain her luck would run out at some point. Also, hiding wasn’t really in her nature. She hated lurking in the mountains waiting for the sun to set, but when faced with superior numbers every advantage had to be used. That was what Solomon had told her lifetimes ago. This was a game of cat and mouse, and she absolutely refused to play the mouse.

The first one she caught on the second night. About a mile outside of Kaer Morhen. He was one of the cat witchers, older than Gaetan but that didn’t mean anything when it came to their kind. She had followed him deep into the forests that skirted the lake. This was where the forktails, harpies and drowners usually congregated, but with Ellie’s demonic presence the forest was eerily quiet. Still, he hadn’t heard her coming, his anger palpable as she took him down quickly and easily. Before she left him, she made sure to mark him. Stopping him from pursuing her further.

The second and third had come in quick succession after that. Unlike the others, they had been working together. Both of them looked closer to Eskel and Geralt’s age, they had been arguing about something which when Ellie got closer appeared to be a trap designed to catch her. She had stayed downwind and used it against them. Trapping both witchers in a nasty looking pit. They both survived, with marks branded onto them. Three down, three to go.

The fourth was a lot harder to find than the others, but find him she did. Waiting in a cave not far from the path to Kaer Morhen. She had lured him out just far enough so she could slip in behind him and ambush him in his lair. By this point it was the fifth day and Ellie found herself succumbing to her more primal side. She didn’t need to sleep or eat, all her energy and time focused on the hunters on her trail. Occasionally she would see _her_ witchers patrolling the forests, staying clear of their rivals. She would watch them from a high perch, keeping well out of their line of sight or smell. Identifying them from the way they walked, their amour, the barest hint of their scent on the air. 

These were the hardest times, especially when it was Lambert – and nine times out of ten it was. It would take all of her will power not to rush to him, envelop him in her arms, breath his cinnamon smell deep into her lungs. Despite the torture she resisted the temptation and merely watched him as he did his small part in protecting her. However futile it was. She should have been comforted with his concern, instead it always left her feeling sour, the rift between her and the ones she had grown to care about in Kaer Morhen only widening. 

On day six, after eliminating four of the six witchers out for her blood, Ellie would’ve been forgiven for believing her witchers were an exception among their kind. As much as the four cats had been challenging to take down, and had required care and caution on her part, they hadn’t been anywhere as formidable as she had first assumed. Once she had surprised them, the ensuing fights had all been brief. Nothing like the sparring matches she had grown used to over the past few weeks. By the end of the week she saw why Geralt and his brothers were considered legends in this world, their power and skill outmatching other witchers tenfold. Then she found the one they’d called Letho and her assumptions were turned to ash. 

Even from just looking at him Ellie should have known he’d be a challenge. His size and demeanour formidable. However, what she hadn’t been expecting was his cunning and surprising stealth. In fact, it was closer to say _he_ had found _her_ , not the other way around.

Night had just fallen on the sixth day, and she was coming out of the hiding place she had kept to. A small crevice half way up a cliff face, no way to get to it unless you climbed or jumped. Impossible to see from the ground and hidden by brush and outcropping trees from above, untraceable…or so she thought. She was just getting her bearings in the dense forest below the cliff when she felt a presence behind her. It was only her superior reactions that manged to save her from the dagger as it whistled past her head, embedding itself in a tree right where she had been stood seconds before.

‘Impressive.’ A gravelly, disinterested voice said, the hulking, black shadow detaching from the dark. His eyes didn’t have their characteristic glow, the pupils blown wide by the potion he had taken to see better. With his sunken sockets the jet-black eyes made his face look more like a skull. Ellie didn’t respond as he strode nonchalantly towards her. Instead her lips pulled back over her teeth and she let out a warning growl before leaping into the canopy above him.

‘I wouldn’t bother trying to run. You won’t get far.’ He said, causally retrieving his dagger, pulling it from the tree with ease. Eager to get some distance between her and the witcher, Ellie made to jump from the tree she was in to a large birch not far away. As she pushed off from the branch she felt a featherlight touch brush against her ankle, then a high-pitched twang drew her attention down just in time to see the trip wire that had been placed in the tree break.

The explosion launched her forwards with no direction, her body somersaulting as she tried and failed to stop her mad descent. She landed on the ground with a hard thud, the air rushing from her but relatively unscathed. The bomb hadn’t been meant to kill, or maim, merely throw her off guard. In that respect it had done its job marvellously, as before she could properly right herself a strong grip wrapped around her midriff, lifting her bodily from where she lay stunned.

‘I did warn you.’ Her captor said into her ear. His heavy scent of peat filling her nose, making her choke on its bitter taste. Ellie pushed against his vice like grip but his arms were like two immovable iron bands. Letho tightened his hold on her, she could feel her bones grating against one another from the force.

Panic began to set in, and Ellie automatically began to draw on the energy around her. The air grew hot and metallic as the atmosphere grew heavy with electricity. A deep chuckle shook through her. 

‘Gaetan told me about your little lightning trick. I made sure to take precautions.’ Ellie frowned as she moved against his hold, it was then she noticed the wet sheen of something coating his skin and armour. Taking a tentative sniff, a growl of frustration bubbled up in her throat, it was oil. He had covered himself in oil. Apart from being a good lubricant for swords it was a fantastic insulator. The amount of energy she was able to gather wouldn’t be very effective against this brute.

Switching tactics, Ellie absorbed the static energy instead, giving her a burst of explosive strength. With a defiant roar she pushed against Letho again, this time moving his arms out just enough to slip through them, with the added help of the oil. Tumbling to the ground, she used the last of the energy to make a dash for it. She only got a few steps before the towering form of Letho blocked her path. How was this guy so fast _and_ so fucking huge? 

The panic in her ramped up as she made to dodge around him, but he lashed out at her with both his daggers now. Cold fear washed over Ellie, this was familiar. Too familiar for her liking. His style of fighting and choice of weapon were eerily similar to her own, except she was unarmed and literally on the back foot as she staggered backwards trying to gain some purchase on the snow slick leaves underfoot. He came at her relentlessly, his blades only missing her by millimetres. Driving her back step by step, she got the impression that if he’d wanted to he could have landed anyone of his blows by now. She felt like she was being herded towards a specific spot.

Remembering the bomb he had placed in the trees, there were likely more around this spot, stopping her from escaping or gaining the high ground. This one was clever. She didn’t have time to formulate an effective attack plan, what with Letho’s unrelenting assault. All she could do was act on instinct, giving over to her demonic side completely, hoping it could find a way out. 

She felt the wild fury of her power flood through her veins, her senses heightening with the darkening of her irises to an inky pitch black. The air immediately began to buzz again with the tang of electricity, only this time it wasn’t the static in the air she was drawing but the clouds themselves. Pulling and moulding them above her, through the trees, the stars fading from view as the storm gathered. 

Letho didn’t seem to notice the change in his quarry. Continuing to drive her back, his mouth set in a snarl of concentration. Ellie danced between his blades, making sure to stay clear of them but also aware of where he was leading her. The path they were on was headed for a vicious drop down into the valley, off a sheer cliff which no doubt was rigged with more of Letho’s bombs for good measure. It was a good plan; if he could blow her to Purgatory and back she would need time to recover. Enough time for him to restrain and capture her properly. 

As she neared the edge Ellie gritted her teeth, her black eyes fixed on her attacker. Cold drips began to hit them from above as the clouds burst, the rain turning from a shower to a downpour in a matter of seconds. Letho didn’t blink, his snarl twisting into a grin as he pushed her back the last few feet. Ellie narrowed her eyes and waited for him to take his final swing, watching for the moment he was most off balance, then she struck. 

Lifting her hand, she drew down a bolt of lightning from the clouds above, pulling it towards the tree just behind Letho. The energy arced with a crackling hum, striking the trunk and splintering it in an impressive explosion of sparks and blue fire. The witcher turned reflexively towards the sound, his cat drugged eyes widening. 

Using his temporary distraction Ellie whirled around searching among the undergrowth for her intended trap. Now she was aware of what she was looking for she spotted the trip wire easily, following the gossamer fine thread she reached the bomb it was rigged to and deftly retrieved it. Letho had recovered from the dramatic display of Ellie’s power and was already wheeling back round to deal with her next. With a wide, wolfish grin Ellie took a leaf from Lambert’s guide to fishing and threw the bomb high over the witcher’s head before he could see it. It hit its target, lodging in the still smouldering branches of the tree. With a loud boom it went off, causing Letho to fall stunned to the ground, in much the same way she had before. 

Before he could right himself Ellie pounced, pushing him face first into the dirt with all of her strength. ‘Not so fun when someone does it to you, is it?’ She crowed triumphantly, pressing her palm to the tensed muscle of his shoulder. 

Letho let out a roar of pain and humiliation as she marked him out, the red hot brand glowing for a few second in the dark. Ellie was just about to release him and disappear into the night when the witcher began to chuckle darkly beneath her. 

‘Very good. Consider me beaten. Unfortunately, it’s still game over demon. Gaetan will have you before the night is through.’

She snorted, the high from her recent victory still filling her with confidence. ‘And how’s that? He’s got to find me first. Congrats on your tracking by the way, your attack was definitely the closest your group’s come.’ 

The chuckled morphed into ominous laughter, one that sent a cold shiver up her spine. ‘That wasn’t an attack, it was a distraction. And he won’t have to find you, you’ll go to him.’ 

Her confidence turned to suspicion, into fear and then anger in a heartbeat. Her demon blood was strong in her veins and emotional control had become a loose concept to her. ‘What are you talking about slayer?’ She spat through gritted teeth. ‘I’m not walking into another one of your ambushes, you think I’m an idiot?’ 

Letho turned his head so he could look up at her with one eye. The effects of the cat potion already wearing off, the familiar orange glow burning brightly up at her. ‘Depends on the bait. I’m sure you’ll bite if it’s that traitor your fucking, hmm?’ His eyes blazed gleefully as a growl ripped through her now very pronounced fangs. 

‘Where?’ Was all she could manage. Letho laughed hard then, and Ellie couldn’t stop her fist coming down on his face. ‘Where!?’ She screamed against the wind and rain, the storm matching her fury.

‘The keep. He should be waiting for you now.’

She didn’t wait to hear him gloat anymore. Giving him one more forceful shove into the dirt, she launched herself off of the witcher and raced into the forest, heading back down to Kaer Morhen. The shrieking wind picked up and carried her all the quicker, but it wasn’t quick enough. Pushing her legs to go faster, she could feel the electricity building inside her. The power of the storm she’d summoned coalescing around her, until she was no longer running along the forest floor but flying. Flying through trees faster than the wind, coasting on the lightning itself. It arced through the clouds above the valley, and as the first booming roll of thunder echoed off the mountains she landed with a flash and crackling heat in front of the gates of Kaer Morhen.

‘Lambert!?’ She called out into the thunder, the storm howling back in response. The rain was now lashing her face and skin, the wind whipping back and forth as if angry at the keep and the forests surrounding it. It _was_ angry, because _she_ was angry. There was no one stood at the entrance, but the heavy oak gate was open. The gaping maw of Kaer Morhen appearing all the more threatening in its emptiness. 

_Where was he? How had he manged to get Lambert?_

The questions buzzed around her head like agitated flies. Her blood pulsing with undiluted panic. This was it. It was happening again. Why had she let him talk her into confessing her feelings? Why had she let herself give in? Now he was in danger, and she felt world shifting beneath her feet as she strained to catch any sign of him. 

Her deal with Gaetan meant she was unable to set foot in the keep until the seven days was up. There was no such stipulation on him however. Maybe it had been foolish to think he wouldn’t try to enter the hostile witcher’s home, or maybe she had trusted her companions too much. Regardless, she felt another frustrated roar escape her mouth, echoed by the thunderous boom of the storm raging above her.

‘Calm down demon. No need to shout.’ 

Ellie whipped round, her eyes burning with a dark hatred at the sound of his voice. Staggering out onto the path came a wounded and grappled Lambert, his face set in a growl of anger, his chin rucked up by the arm wrapped around his throat. Gaetan’s face leered over his shoulder, his eyes burning with a similar hatred to hers as he manoeuvred them both closer to her. He had his longsword out, gripped in his other hand. The blade of it pressed threateningly against Lambert’s stomach which was already dark with blood. The scent of rust grated Ellie’s senses making her recoil, her eyes zeroing in on a nasty gash on his side that was the source of the smell. She immediately scanned the rest of him for any further injuries, but apart from his paler than usually face he seemed stable. Her rage grew like a wave crashing towards the shore. The rain pummelled the men stood before her, their faces slick with her anger. 

‘Let him go!’ She thundered. ‘This wasn’t part of the deal!’ 

Gaetan tightened his grip on Lambert’s throat, until the wolf witcher was clawing uselessly against his arm with one of his hands. She noticed how the other hung limp and ineffective at his side, the same side that was dripping blood steadily onto the rain-washed dirt. 

‘The _deal_ , was that these whoresons wouldn’t help you, and yet I found this particular mongrel sniffing around one of my brothers. He was fair game as far as I could see, and a useful little lure for you.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I guess this means you took out Letho. Thought that thug had more fight in him than that.’ 

‘Let. Him. Go.’ Ellie snarled, the panic she’d felt at first giving way to animalistic bloodlust now she could see him. 

‘You’re a tricky fucking monster, I’ll give you that. Taken out my entire team, whilst we’ve barely got a good look at you. My bet is, if you had to face us in a fair fight, no hiding or sneaking around, we’d have got you by now.’ There was a bitter note to his voice, a whine of petulance that made her hackles rise even further.

‘You want me to give? Is that what you want?’ She hissed. The wet slap of running feet behind her made her tense, but there was a familiarity to the presences that had gathered in the entrance gate. 

‘What’s going on? Lambert?’ Vesemir’s gruff bark brought her a moment of peace, until she saw another hulking mass approaching from the side of the path, accompanied by four other figures. Letho, who had managed to get here almost as quick as her, and the other cats stalked out of the shadows to stand behind Gaetan. Their eyes glowing like a row of torches. Behind her she could feel Vesemir, Geralt, and Eskel shift to form a similar semi-circle around her. 

‘You weren’t allowed to harm any of us cat.’ Eskel called out over the howling wind.

‘Only _if_ she won wolf. I’m still standing.’ 

‘For now.’ Ellie muttered darkly, her black eyes narrowing to slits. Gaetan sneered, a low chuckle escaping him. 

‘New deal demon. You fight me, one on one. A fair fight. Witcher against monster, as it should be.’ Another growl ripped over the sound of the storm, but this time it came from Lambert.

‘Fucking coward. She’s not allowed weapons, you think that’s a fair fight?’ His voice sounded choked, a warble of pain to it that made Ellie’s eyes widen in fear, her feet taking a step forward. 

‘Stay where you are!’ Gaetan shouted, shaking his prisoner roughly. Jostling the open wound on his side. ‘And you, traitor…fucking shut it! Your own fault for being caught unawares. Pathetic.’ 

Ellie could see the glaze of anger filter over Lambert’s eyes, but there was also a hint of fear. Not for himself, but for her. Why? Did he not think she could face this guy head on? Regardless, she seemed to have little choice.

‘Deal.’ She said. Gaetan looked triumphant, then he released Lambert, his arm recoiling quickly as the brand she had placed there glowed a bright red again. ‘You want a monster, I’ll give you a monster.’ She spat, lowering instantly into a crouch, the wind whipping her damp hair around her head like live snakes.

‘Ellie, no.’ Lambert said. He was knelt on the floor, his good hand clutching his side. Blood seeped between his fingers, and his face was pallid with pain even as he looked at her pleadingly. First things first, she’d pay him back for what he’d done to her witcher. 

‘Come and taste sliver demon.’ Gaetan said pompously, holding his sword above his head, ready to strike.

She was vaguely aware of the makeshift amphitheatre their respective audiences had created around them. Aware of her friends watching on with horror and trepidation as she charged the other witcher. Aware of Lambert’s pale moon like face following her as she darted under Gaetan’s first attack and came up behind him. Aware of the opposing side glaring at her hatefully as she made to latch onto his back and strangle him like he’d done Lambert; but it was only Gaetan, who had her full attention. He was quicker than she remembered, ducking out from under her arms so she had to extend them to brace herself from landing face first on the ground. His body pirouetting artfully to face her, his sword still held high.

She spat a curse into the dirt before pushing herself to her feet and charging him once more. A more logical Ellie would know that barrelling head first at an enemy wasn’t the wisest tactic, however most of her logic had been eaten away by the prolonged use of her power. Her demon side was now fully in control, and it was _pissed._ A thin veil of red had descended over her eyes so when Gaetan dodged to the side and swiped at her ankles with his sword she was too crazed to react to it.

There was no real pain, only the sensation of the ground rushing up to meet her. At the last moment she tucked herself into a roll, tumbling away from the witcher in a flurry of rain water and dark blood. A feral snarl ripped from between her teeth as she rounded on him once more. The haze of anger seeping into her very bones as she searched out his weak spots. She felt like a passenger in her enraged form, watching from the side-lines with the same horrified expression as Lambert as she threw herself at the witcher again. She saw in slow motion as his sword swung for her midriff, the sharp blade glinting wetly in the rain. She saw as it threw her off balance sending her stumbling to her knees for a second time, his stance already flowing around to attack her from above. The sword was held high above his head, and as she screamed a warning internally, some semblance of control came back to her in time to raise her arms over her head in defence. 

The blade sliced cleanly into her crossed forearms. Biting into the flesh and spraying blood in a wide arc behind Gaetan as he flicked the sword away from her. She could feel the hot liquid flooding down her exposed arms, the bitter pulse of torn skin and nerves reverberating through her. Frozen in place, she wasn’t sure what the damage to her arms was, but a sharp hiss of anger next to her made her glance over. Lambert was staring wild eyed at her, his pale face gaining a hint of colour as his shocked gaze slid to Gaetan, his amber eyes flaring with the promise of retribution.

‘So, you do bleed demon. Good to know.’ Gaetan sneered from somewhere above her.

Shakily she uncrossed her arms and brought them down by her sides. There was a flash of deep, jagged wounds, splitting her skin from wrist to elbow. He had certainly hit her hard. She could already feel the flesh knitting back together, the numb tingle of severed nerves reattaching allowing her to flex her fingers experimentally. The hit he’d landed had gone some way to clearing her head, although the buzz of power still lingered in her veins. Simmering below the surface. 

Rising to her feet, she glared narrowed eyed at her opponent. Her animalistic frenzy subsiding, allowing the cooler part of her brain to take control. Gaetan sensed the change in her and quickly brought his sword up in a two-handed defensive position. Despite her tactical head being firmly back on her shoulders, she was still at a disadvantage without a weapon and hemmed in by people. She dodged his next few attacks with ease, but found herself being herded much like Letho had done to her. Going on the offensive was nearly impossible under these circumstances, and she felt her control being to slip again as she was backed furiously towards the keep with no plan. 

The harsh sound of steel suddenly clattering against stone caught her attention from behind her. Glancing over her shoulder she watched as Vesemir kicked his sword which he had dropped in front of him, sending it skittering across the ground towards her.

‘Oops, I’m so clumsy.’ He said, with a sly smile. 

‘We agreed no weapons!’ Gaetan shouted. Vesemir’s smile turned into a furious scowl. 

‘You would mark a victory over an unarmed opponent as noble? You’re no better than a common highway bandit if that’s the case boy.’ Gaetan snarled at the older witcher’s condescending tone and launched himself towards Ellie.

‘I don’t give an ogre’s ass about being noble.’ He screamed, charging at her with a flurry of blows. She scrambled behind her, gripping the sword Vesemir had offered her. With a whistling swish she brought it up to parry Gaetan’s, the loud bell like clang of metal on metal rang out over the storm, and she felt herself grinning as the playing field was finally levelled out.

‘No rules against me using whatever’s just lying around.’ She taunted, as she pushed against his blade, deflecting his blow. He made a noise of frustration before renewing his attack on her, pirouetting and attempting to flank her. The unfamiliar weight of Vesemir’s sword was hard to get used to, but in the heat of the moment she managed to match the witcher blow for blow. They parried and countered, first one of them pushing the other back and then vice versa. 

Ellie was thankful for Vesemir’s lessons, without them she wouldn’t have been able to hold her own against Gaetan. Even with her years of training under Solomon, fighting a witcher one on one with a longsword was eons away from fighting rabid demons with dagger and pole. They weren’t even close to similar. There was a desperate edge to Gaetan’s attacks as they continued, both their clothes soaked by the rain. 

She could feel her opponent’s strength starting to wane. The relentless rain and wind still whipping around them sapping his energy. On her periphery she could see the others watching as she parried another blow from him, catching his hand with the flat of her blade as she did. Vesemir’s face was set in an expression of fatherly pride, his arms folded across his chest as he observed her. Eskel was grinning and even Geralt looked mildly impressed with her performance.

As the pair of them whirled around she saw the opposing audience. The four cat witchers stared at her with unabashed hatred, their mouths set into sneers of contempt. Letho however, was watching her with a strange look of amusement. His eyebrow raised slightly at their display. As she glanced at him, his wide mouth quirked up and he appeared to smile at her. It was in that moment that Gaetan struck.

She wasn’t entirely sure what happened next, all she caught was him waving his hand quickly in the air. His fingers moving in an unfamiliar pattern. Then there was a burst of white light and that insistent buzzing that signalled the use of magic, before Ellie’s vision went blurry and her mind took on a fuzzy quality. 

It felt like she was suspended between consciousness and oblivion. Her body was no longer hers and her soul was floating ten feet above her. Except she had no soul, so that was impossible. Dimly she heard people shouting in protest, she was certain one of them was Lambert. Then the weight of Vesemir’s longsword was abruptly gone from her hands and she could hear it clattering to the ground again. She felt herself kneeling, although there had been no command from her to do so, and she knew Gaetan was stood over her although no matter how much she willed herself to move her arms and legs didn’t respond. What had he done to her?

She pushed against the soft veil covering her senses. Fighting against the invisible strings that were inexplicably holding her in place. For a moment she thought it was over, then a dark voice whispered to her from the empty place where her heart had once been.

_Let me out. Let me finish this._

Ellie folded in on herself, moving out of her inner demon’s way. The rush of power felt exhilarating, and what had seconds ago been blurry and incoherent, now became pin sharp and hyper real. Gaetan was indeed stood before her, sword descending on a course for her head. Her onyx eyes snapped up to him, and in that moment she saw true fear etched on his face.

His sword landed in the mud, the spot where she had been, vacant. She was already behind him, her body moving of its own accord. She gathered the wind and pushed it towards his back with a fluid movement. If he could use cheap tricks so could she. The condensed gale hammered into Gaetan’s back, sending him staggering forward. He remained upright but his position was thrown. She searched for the sword he had knocked from her grasp, but as she was scanning the ground, two light clinks drew her attention.

Letho was stood, arms folded, his mouth pulled into a full-blown smirk as he gestured with his head to the ground before him. Following his gaze, Ellie’s eyes widened slightly as she saw his two daggers discarded before him. Before she could figure out his intent Gaetan was on her, screaming his defiance at her come back. She ducked and avoided his wildly swinging sword, grabbing the two daggers as she did. Now _this_ was a weapon she was used to.

Staying low to the ground she swiped her leg out, catching the witcher’s as he ran past her. He stumbled again, this time landing on his knees in the dirt. Gritting her teeth, images of the wound he had inflicted on Lambert flashing through her mind’s eye, she gripped the daggers in a tight hold and aimed for the backs of his claves. With a shout of rage, she slammed the twin blades down through the muscle, scrapping past bone and finally imbedding them into the ground beneath him. Pinning him to the floor. Gaetan let out a blood curdling scream, collapsing forward. His hands slapping into the wet mud as he fought to keep himself upright.

Slowly, so slowly, Ellie retrieved Vesemir’s discarded sword. The heavy thrumming of the rain and the rolling howl of the wind were the only sounds as his scream turned into grunts of pain. She could see a ring of stoic and shocked faces encircling them as she approached her prey from behind, the longsword held easily in one hand. Gripping Gaetan’s chin she lifted his head up so he could look into her bottomless eyes, then her lip curled over her elongated fangs in a feral grin.

‘Looks like the monster won. How does it feel, _witcher?’_ She purred softly, lifting the blade to rest against his throat. Her eyes were caught by a livid mark, hidden just below the collar of his amour, but her focus flicked back to him as he licked his lips. 

‘Go on. Do it demon. Show them what you really are.’ She narrowed her eyes and pressed the blade harder against his throat until a small trickle of blood beaded on the bright metal. Her demon side growled hungrily within her, but she was more than in control this time. Still, her chest clenched uncomfortable when she heard a desperate plea behind her.

‘Ellie.’ 

Lambert was still knelt on the floor. His face as pale as ever, but all trace of anger lost from those eyes. Now there was only concern and the barest trace of fear as he looked at her. It was like a hammer blow to Ellie, and she instantly dropped the sword as if it were suddenly red hot. Taking a step back, she surveyed the fallen witcher before her.

‘I won’t kill you, but before I release you from our deal I have one more condition.’ Gaetan looked over his shoulder, a frown furrowing his pain stretched brow. 

‘What do you fucking want now?’ 

Ignoring his disrespectful tone, Ellie reached forward and pulled the edge of his armour down harshly, exposing the join between his neck and shoulder to the gathered crowd. 

‘Tell me who put _this_ mark on you, and we’re even.’

Undiluted fear came over Gaetan’s face, but before he could answer Geralt let out a harsh sound of horror. His eyes burning into the twisting, foreign looking mark on the other witcher’s neck. So similar to her brand and yet alien in its design.

‘Fuck.’ The normally stoic White wolf cursed, his eyes filled with the same wild fear she had seen on her opponent’s face. ‘It’s him.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly longer chapter this week. I didn't want to break up the 'hunt' arc too much. An exciting revelation, can't wait to see where we go from here ;). As always, I'll see you next week. :)


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Gaunter O’Dimm sat cross-legged on the table, the patrons of the inn flitting around him like insignificant insects. He stared narrow eyed, and impatient at the door, waiting for his puppet to return with the news he already knew. Idly twirling a wooden spoon between deft fingers. It really was impossibly hard being him. Having to slow to the speed of these idiotic creatures day in day out. Having to rely on cheap tricks and bargains to get by. It really was below him, he should be a ruler by now…he was born to be one.

His temper spiked as the door to the grotty inn burst open and his puppet walked in looking unapologetic and, would you believe it, _angry._ His freakish cat eyes roamed the place before landing on Gaunter. The demon recoiled slightly at the blatant stare, but kept his expression neutral. No need to show these sheep how much the wolf despised them.

The witcher walked through the crowded bar, a noticeable limp to his steps, until he was in front of the nonchalant looking man. His eyes flicked down briefly to the spoon Gaunter was still flourishing and fidgeting with, then they returned to his inconspicuous face.

‘I can only assume by your solitary state, that you _didn’t_ succeed in my little task.’ O’Dimm said in his lyrical voice. A shiver of fear passed through the witcher, and he couldn’t help smiling benevolently at the delicious reaction to his words.

‘She was everything you said she was, but those other witchers…they were helping her.’ 

The demon tilted his head to one side, surveying his puppet with hard eyes. ‘You had more than enough help to take on that stray pack of wolves. I even gave you a Kingslayer to bolster your ranks, why didn’t you just slaughter them all?’

The witcher suddenly looked livid, his hell fire eyes flickering with hate as he looked at him. That would never do. ‘Witchers don’t tend to kill other witchers. Besides, that so called _Kingslayer_ you gave me, he helped the demon at the last minute.’ 

Gaunter regarded him for a moment, then laughed loud and long. ‘Did he now? Will wonders never cease?’ He extended his finger and balanced the spoon on it. ‘Is she still with them?’ 

‘Yes. I-I made a deal with her. If she won I was to leave them alone. After the fight I was…compelled to obey her.’ Gaunter’s expression darkened as he whipped his hand from under the spoon, grabbing it in mid-air and smacking it harshly across the witcher’s face.

‘Of course, you were. That’s what happens when you make deals like that. Haven’t you learnt?’ He used the spoon to slide back the fabric covering his own mark, placed on the pale skin of the witcher’s shoulder. ‘She saw this, didn’t she?’ 

The witcher turned a milky white except for the circle of red where he had been struck, and nodded slowly. Gaunter smiled warmly, withdrawing the spoon. 

‘Good. I hate arriving unannounced.’ He twirled the spoon in his hand once more, his smile morphing into a grin. The witcher swallowed nervously.

‘What about me?’ He asked. 

O’Dimm tilted his head again. ‘What about you?’ He said. 

‘Am I free now? I can’t go back and I did go to the keep like you asked.’ The spoon stopped spinning abruptly as Gaunter grasped it in an iron grip.

‘You failed to complete the contract. So, by the law of the land I owe you nothing.’ The witcher opened his mouth to speak but the demon rested the handle of the spoon against his lips to silence him. ‘And by the law of _my_ land you owe me everything. The deal is done.’ He said, his voice lowering several octaves into a frightful boom. Before the witcher could react, Gaunter grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and with the other drove the blunt end of the spoon straight through one of his freakish eyes. There was a squelching pop as the eyeball burst and a satisfying crunch as it pierced his skull, skewering his brain in the process. The puppet’s body went limp in Gaunter’s hand and he closed his eyes as the softly glowing light detached itself from its dead host and drifted up into the noisy inn. 

Removing the spoon with a messy splat, Gaunter quickly caught the escaping soul on the bowl end of it. Then, with no ceremony or suspense, he lifted the utensil to his mouth and swallowed the glowing light whole. He savoured the taste of it for a moment, so rare he got to devour a good soul nowadays, and witchers were so much more delectable than ordinary humans. Running a wet tongue over his lips he sighed, twirling the blood-stained spoon in his hand again.

‘If you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.’ He murmured to no one in particular. Hopping down off the table he sauntered out of the inn, humming a tune that he’d heard some children singing once. No one looked at the ordinary looking man as he passed by. Their chatter and drinking continuing uninterrupted. Oblivious to the one-eyed corpse now lying under a table in the corner.

* * *

The storm had died down as soon as their intruders had left the valley, but the same could not be said for the storm inside Ellie. She was a jagged ball of agitated nerves, on edge at the slightest shift in atmosphere or sound. This hadn’t been helped by Lambert’s still very open wound that needed tending to, and he had eventually told her to leave when she had snapped at Triss a few too many times whilst she attempted to heal him.

She felt like a glass too full of water. Vibrating with guilt and anger, about to crack and spill over at the slightest thing. The sight of the gaping, vicious looking wound in his side was seared into her brain. It looked like Gaetan had almost gutted Lambert with his sword and it made her stomach churn with hatred as she tried to expel her pent-up energy, striding aimlessly around the keep. Eskel and Vesemir were checking defences in the wall, Yennefer was similarly checking the magical barriers she had put up around the place. So, it was unsurprising when Ellie found herself alone with Geralt in the main hall, once her feet guided her there. 

He was leaning against the fireplace, a haunted look in his eyes that had been there since seeing Gaetan’s other mark. After the fight and revelation of who was behind the contract on her, Geralt had disappeared into the bowels of Kaer Morhen and hadn’t resurfaced for a long time. The others had found this behaviour odd and frustrating, wanting to gather as much information about their hidden enemy but Ellie saw it differently. From what little he had told her of the demon he had previously encountered, coupled with his aversion and mistrust towards her at the start, she sensed this was a dangerous entity.

She walked over to the white haired witcher and stared into the coiling flames with him. Silence gathered between them, but it wasn’t the uncomfortable, tense silence she had shared with Geralt in the past. There was a camaraderie to it, as if their shared knowledge of what was coming made them a united front. 

‘Do you think he’ll come here?’ She eventually asked. Geralt didn’t turn away from the fire, his face tattooed with bright orange and reds, like war paint. 

‘Maybe. He preferred to get others to do his dirty work though.’

‘Preferred?’ He turned is head slightly to stare at her with one amber eye.

‘ _Prefers_. I did hope he’d been lying when he said he couldn’t be killed, but I suppose that was a naïve hope when the evidence of it is stood right in front of me.’ Ellie’s mouth pulled into a thin line. Invulnerability wasn’t a common demon trait; in fact, as far as she knew she was the only one that possessed that unique ability. Most other demons could be injured, maimed, even killed with enough trauma, the only exception to this rule would be higher demons, and she only knew one of them. The one that had made her.

She stared down into the fire, deep in thought, and Geralt being the social pariah he was didn’t press her to answer. ‘We know he’s after me, so I should go. The pass is clear now. Shouldn’t be a problem for me.’

‘Not a problem for you, but it’ll certainly be a problem for someone.’ Geralt gave her a sidelong look, his eyebrow raised suggestively. Right on cue the sound of unsteady footsteps echoed across the stone floor towards them. 

‘I’ve been searching all over for you.’ Lambert’s voice rang out, an edge of desperation colouring the annoyance in it. 

Turning, Ellie saw him limping over to them, his brow knitted together in a pained expression. ‘What are you doing? You should be resting.’ She scolded.

‘I’m done resting. Merigold’s fucked with me enough, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t doing anything stupid.’ 

Ellie frowned at him. ‘Like what?’ 

‘Like planning to leave Kaer Morhen on your own.’ She looked at Geralt sharply. He gave her an impassive stare back.

‘You fucking what?’ Lambert snapped. Ellie sighed and gave the white haired witcher a disappointed look. He shrugged.

‘I’d rather not have a dangerous demon coming to the keep in search of me. Better I lure him away where he can cause less trouble.’ Lambert’s expression darkened before he grabbed her wrist and pulled on it harshly.

‘Come with me. Now.’ She tried to protest but Lambert’s grip was so tight she could feel him shaking against her skin. There was something in that simple sign of emotion that made her keep her mouth shut. She shot Geralt a glance as she let the younger witcher drag her away. His face said nothing but his eyes still looked haunted and troubled.

Lambert wordlessly towed her up several flights of stairs, taking a route she had never seen before. They passed through corridors and empty rooms, weaving further into the keep than she had ever gone. Finally, he slowed to a standstill in a narrow hallway with a dead end filled with dusty crates. It was clear no one came to this part of the keep much, if at all. Lambert rounded on her, stepping right up into her space so she had to back away to see him clearly. Her thighs knocked against one of the crates, Lambert closed the distance so he towered over her, blocking her escape back down the corridor.

‘What the fuck are you doing Blue eyes?’ He asked. 

‘Nothing.’ She replied with a squeak. Her eyes flicking to his side which was covered by his black shirt.

‘Bullshit. Geralt ratted you out, you were planning on disappearing again.’ 

Ellie winced. She didn’t want to hurt him but at the same time she didn’t like seeing him hurt. The anger and fear she had felt watching his blood soak into the wet mud had nearly driven her insane. She couldn’t risk losing control like that again. ‘It’s better if I confront him alone. I don’t want any of you dying because of me, especially…’. She paused, unable to finish that sentence. Lambert’s glowered at her, his lip curling slightly at the corner.

‘And what about me? That whoreson nearly got you out there. He would have carved you up and taken you in pieces to this demon bastard. Don’t you think I hated seeing your blood everywhere, thinking that I had almost caused…’. He cut off with a strange strangled sound and Ellie felt her breath catch. His eyes were gleaming with something wet in the dim light. His mouth open as he stared down at her, breathing heavily.

‘Fuck it all Ellie.’ He said in a gasp, leaning forward and grabbing her roughly. His mouth was hot and frantic against hers. His fingers threaded into her hair, gripped it and pulled her head back so he could assault her neck. Ellie felt a twinge of pain as she was forced into an uncomfortable position. The crate pressing into her thighs, her hands lying flat on it to offer her some kind of balance. Lambert’s teeth sank into her neck and she let out a shocked hiss, his burning tongue swiping over it leaving her knees weak.

His body was crushed against hers, and she could feel his heart thundering through his cotton shirt. That subtle shiver was still running through him, the echo of fear reverberating into the way he held her roughly and ravaged her with his mouth. The crate she was leaning on rocked against the wall noisily as he tried to get even closer to her. Before she could adjust her balance, he grabbed her thighs and hoisted her onto the crate, positioning himself between her legs. He let out a grunt of pain at the movement and she instinctually tried to shove him away to get a look at his wound. 

‘Careful.’ She said. Lambert let out a growl against her mouth.

‘Don’t tell _me_ to be careful.’ His hands began undoing her trousers and Ellie suddenly found herself unwilling to argue with him anymore. She let him take out his pent-up anger, frustration and fear on her. He wasn’t gentle, but neither was she. Her own terror at seeing him injured and the looming shadow of a storm brewing around them fuelling her passion. He fucked her, against the crate in an abandoned corner of the keep, and afterwards they stayed sagged against each other; breathing in their intermingled scents.

Ellie closed her eyes as she leant into Lambert’s shoulder, the fabric of his shirt rubbing against her still warm cheek. She clung to him, partly because she was still balanced on the crate, her trousers now bundled around her ankles, but also because she felt adrift. Like the only thing keeping her in place was the solid mass of his body. She could have stayed in his arms, the post coital glow seeping through her bones, for the rest of eternity.

‘Where is this place?’ She asked in a stupor. Lambert shifted against her.

‘It’s near my old room. Just a storage area now though.’ He answered lazily. Ellie’s face lit up with excitement.

‘Show me. Please.’ She begged. He let out a quiet sigh, barely more than a breath.

‘I can never say no to you Blue eyes.’ He said, reluctantly releasing her. Hopping down off the crate, she awkwardly righted herself, pulling up her leather trousers. Lambert shot her a languid smirk as he watched, then offered his hand when she was done. He led her a little way back up the corridor, skirting around the many crates. Stopping next to a large stack of them he let go of her to shift them easily to one side.

With the crates removed she could now see a door set into the wall. It was identical to the hundreds of others she had seen in the keep, especially in the dorm area, but there was something intriguing about this one. Behind this unassuming oak and iron banded door was where young Lambert had grown up. The simplistic excitement of seeing her lovers private space made her giddy, and she jogged on the spot as he raised an eyebrow at her.

‘There’s nothing outrageous in there. Just dust and old memories. Sure you want to see?’ 

She bobbed her head furiously in response, a grin plastered across her face. Lambert smiled at her childish reaction, then slowly leant forward to open the door. It creaked loudly as it swung open, the room inside completely dark. The stale air inside hit them like a wall; dust and decay the dominate smells, but she could still make out the faintest trace of spice under it. An echo of who the room belonged to. Lambert walked in and lit a sconce on one wall, revealing the small bed chamber in all its mundane glory.

A single bed was set against the far wall, still made but unslept in for many decades. To the left, a set of chest high shelves, rammed with a cluttered mess of books, potion bottles and what looked like deconstructed bombs. On the other there was no furniture but an alarming boulder grey head, with ugly protruding teeth and beady eyes fixed in a grotesque expression was poking out of the stonework. 

Ellie flinched back instinctually and Lambert chuckled. ‘Don’t worry. It’s been dead a long time.’ 

Looking at it again she noticed the head was haloed by a piece of wood. It was a trophy. ‘What is it?’ She asked, walking over to touch the rough skin of the creature.

‘It _was_ a rock troll.’ Lambert replied, idly flipping through a book he had picked up. ‘It was my first kill.’ He glanced up as she pulled a sour face, he snapped the book shut in one hand. ‘Don’t look at me like that. It was what I was trained to do, besides, they can be nasty whoresons when they want to be. Although don’t say that to Geralt.’ 

He placed the book back and sauntered over to her, crossing his arms as he stared up at the dead troll head. 

‘Would you have mounted _my_ head like that?’ She asked.

He looked at her sharply. ‘Of course I not, what do you take-‘ He stopped as he saw the rye smirk on her face. ‘Are you fucking with me?’ 

Her grin widened. ‘Yeah, I kinda’ am.’ 

His eyes flashed with something dark and he deliberately unfolded his arms. ‘Think you’re funny?’ 

Ellie felt a thrill of adrenaline shoot through her at his predatory expression, and she began to back up, the grin still broad on her face. ‘Yeah, I do.’ 

‘Hmm.’ Lambert intoned, right before he launched himself at her. She let out a squeal of outrage as he picked her up and flung her easily over his shoulder. Despite his strength she noticed him dip slightly, as his wound caused him discomfort. Not wanting to nag him again but conscious of his pain, Ellie stayed obediently still as he carried her over to the bed. He dumped her on it, a cloud of dust billowing up around her. 

‘Really? Right here, on your dirty sheets in front of that guy?’ She whined, flicking an accusatory finger towards the troll who was now leering at them from its perch on the wall. 

‘Shut it demon.’ He growled, waving a hand dismissively in the air to extinguish the sconce he had lit with magic. She laughed loudly as he crawled over her and pretty soon forgot all about the dusty bed and their disconcerting audience.

* * *

Lambert was fast asleep next to her. His deep, rhythmic breathing was the only sound in their quiet corner of the keep. Ellie was squashed next to him on the small bed, sat up against the wall, her fingers idly combing through his hair. It was all very peaceful after the tumultuous week she’d had, and she let her mind empty as she sat next to her witcher. 

There was no window in Lambert’s old room so she had no idea how long they had been up here, or what time of day it was now. They were so far in the bowels of Kaer Morhen that she couldn’t make out the others, by smell or sound. It truly felt like it was only them, suspended in time and space, isolated from the rest of the world. 

Lambert shifted slightly in his sleep, letting out a huff as he turned. Ellie stared down at his face in the dark and watched as he pouted, then slid his arm over her waist. ‘Hmm.’ He groaned, his arm tightening around her. ‘Soft.’ 

She chuckled quietly. ‘Cheeky.’

His mouth twitched up in the ghost of a smile and he mumbled again in his sleep. ‘Stay with me Ellie. Don’t ever leave.’ 

A fissure of pain appeared inside her as she stared down at his sleep relaxed face. Suddenly the peace of the moment was gone and she felt an overwhelming sense of panic and guilt. Panic about the impending danger heading their way, and guilt for the amount of time she had been away from her own world, and how little she had thought about her friends and comrades. She certainly wouldn’t say she was as close to her fellow gatekeepers as the witchers were, she didn’t think of them like siblings. However, she still cared about them, and she had vanished without a word. What kind of a leader did that?

She needed to get some air. Her head was swirling and she didn’t want to trouble Lambert with her internal crisis. Let him dream a bit longer, lengthen the time she would have to refuse his request to stay. The fissure widened, sending another hot lance of pain through her chest. Silently she padded across the room, pulling on her clothes as she did, and slipped out through the door, closing it with a soft click behind her. 

Walking briskly, she retraced their steps, only getting lost twice along the way. She wasn’t running like the times before, this felt more methodical. They had talked about her joining him on the Path but he had never outright asked her to stay in this world with him. There had always been an unspoken acceptance that this was temporary, however painful that may be for them both. Reaching the main hall, she sensed Geralt and Eskel were nearby. Not wanting anymore awkward encounters, she slipped quietly out and scaled the eastern wall in a few bounds. 

The forest had become more familiar to her over the past week, and as she walked between the trees she felt her head clearing. The confusing haze Lambert had cast over it blowing away in the cold breeze. The whole valley was balanced on the precipice between winter and spring. The stinging cold mingling with the fresh smell of new growth. It sent electricity through her veins and she took in a deep breath as she moved away from the keep.

She wasn’t heading anywhere in particular, but after a while she found herself deep in the forest nestled in the valley, the rushing river that fed and ran from the lake roaring nearby. Slowing to a stop she listened, the pounding water a comfort, drowning out her racing thoughts. She drew in a long breath, smelling the earth, the sharp scent of pine needles, the traces of the beasts and monsters that called the valley home. Pushing her way through the undergrowth towards the river, she found a large boulder jutting out into the iron grey water. Foam gathered around the rock, the river frothing and snarling like a wild animal. 

Ellie perched on the boulder, staring into the churning water. She had fallen in love with this strange and intriguing world and its people. It felt so far removed from the modern world she knew, the normality of monsters simultaneously refreshing and odd. Her eyes drifted to her wrist which was resting on her knees. Turning it over she examined the raised brand burnt into her skin. For far longer than she could remember the mark had defined her, set her apart as different. In a way it was like the witchers and their cat eyes. Being a gatekeeper had been all she’d known, the demons she had managed to form relationships with her only company, could she give it all up. She sat, deep in thought, surrounded by the rushing river. Her mind flip-flopping between her duties and her heart. She might have stayed there for days if it wasn’t for the unexpected arrival. 

Despite it being still quite brisk at this time of year, Ellie found herself more than comfortable in just her borrowed shirt, rolled up to the elbow. So, she knew it wasn’t the cold that caused her skin to the prickle like a cold finger had run across it, nor was it the wind that made the gossamer fine hairs on her arm stand completely on end. Her stomach rolled with sudden nausea as the familiar sensation passed through her body in an instant. Her senses were now on red alert as she froze, the demon her early warning system had located approaching her from behind.

‘Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me? Quite impressive for a halfbreed.’ The strong smell of sulphur stung her nose, and she felt her spine straighten at the rough, yet slightly lyrical voice.

‘Finally decided to show your face?’ She replied. There was a low chuckle a little closer behind her.

‘I tend to not get too hands on with my business, but sometimes it necessary. Especially when these humans are _so_ incompetent.’ Slowly, Ellie turned to look over her shoulder at the disembodied voice. 

An average looking man, with close cropped hair, a wide mouth surrounded by stubble and a hooked nose stood on the bank of the river. He was wearing a simple, brown tunic, similar to a lot of the farmhands and villagers she had seen on her travels with Lambert. In fact, with his unassuming features and rustic clothing it would have been hard to pick him out from amongst a crowd. The only part of him that demanded any interest were his eyes; set under a dark brow, they exuded an intelligence and cunning that shouldn’t be reckoned with. It was hard to tell what kind of demon he was, but at a guess based on his current appearance a Jinn seemed like the closest option.

Ellie swung her legs round so she was facing the demon completely. He smiled benevolently at her, his arms clasped harmlessly in front of him. She didn’t trust it an inch. 

‘You’re Gaunter O’Dimm?’ His wide mouth widened.

‘Ahh, I see young Geralt has been talking about me. Good to know I left such an…impression.’ He took a few steps forward so he was right at the precipice of the bank, looking down at the thundering, rain swollen river.

‘So, what do you want?’ Ellie said, her eyes narrowed as she watched him cautiously. Gaunter turned his head to look at her slowly, then the smile dropped, his expression darkening to something far more dangerous.

‘It’s so hard to think over this racket.’ He snapped. Then abruptly, the thundering stopped. Deafening silence filled the forest and Ellie looked around in alarm, convinced he had teleported them somewhere. But what she saw was far more disturbing. 

The river was still there, along with the trees and the boulder she had chosen for her seat. However, where once she had been surrounded by violently tossed waves and foaming currents now there was only stillness. The river, frozen in mid flow, its iron coloured waters suspended in the midst of their journey down the valley. The leaves as well, were motionless. The wind that had rustled and shook them seconds ago now gone. There was nothing. Only silence and Gaunter, now smiling up at her again in a sickening fashion.

‘There, much better.’ He drawled, and with a start Ellie realised he had been the cause. A cold stone of dread settled itself in her gut, and she swallowed dryly as it became apparent that he was far more than she had originally presumed. No ordinary Jinn could stop time. In fact, there was only one type of demon that had that level of power.

Gaunter’s grin turned nasty, his eyes glowing with deep satisfaction, as if he knew what she was thinking. He steepled his fingers together, raising them to rest his chin on them as he surveyed her with wicked glee. ‘Now my dear, let’s make a deal.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, been struggling with writer's block for a bit, so not as far ahead as I would like. I am doing my best to catch up though, so hopefully this won't disrupt your weekly scheduled programming. Getting near the end of this part and what a doozy it's been. Hope you're all still enjoying and I'll see you in another week.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

‘Who are you?’ Ellie asked hoarsely. 

‘Someone who’s been waiting a long time to escape this _hell._ ’ Every instinct inside her was telling her to get away from this man. A raw, terrible power seemed to emanate off of him, and if his control of time wasn’t enough worry her, the look he gave her now certainly was. ‘And you, my dear, are my ticket out of it.’

‘You’re stuck here, aren’t you?’ She murmured, unable to look away from his face. Gaunter’s lip curled in disgust.

‘No. I was trapped here, deliberately, by a traitorous usurper who thought he’d do a better job ruling.’ Ellie frowned. She hadn’t heard of a higher demon who was banished to for wanting to rule, then again she hadn’t been a demon for a long time and they tended to keep their secrets close. 

‘Who was this…usurper?’ She probed warily. 

‘You know him as Mortimer but I knew him as my younger, snivelling brother.’ The dread spread through her like a cold fire. Mortimer, the Mayor of Purgatory, the most powerful demon she knew, the personification of death itself and the one who had made her. The fact that he’d had a brother was enough of a shock for her, but to banish and seal him away. What had this guy done?

‘I never knew he had a brother.’ Ellie said. Gaunter let out a grunt which could have been interpreted as a laugh, except for the deadly look in his eyes.

‘Of course you didn’t. He wouldn’t talk about his tyrannical, maniac brother with his subjects. He wants you to believe he is the pinnacle of justice and mercy. The irony being he is more of a tyrant that I could’ve ever been.’

‘He’s a mayor not a king. The demons decided he should lead them.’ She wasn’t sure where this sudden urge to defend her creator came from, but she watched as Gaunter’s face took on a sallow, elongated look. His eyes which had been a dark, muddy brown before darkening to pitch black. The light around them dimmed, although the grey sun still shone weakly through the clouds. The forest on her periphery seemed to fade and vanish into shadow until it was only him and her in existence. 

‘If you believe that, then you are a foolish girl. When was the last time an election was held or an opposition allowed to speak their mind?’ 

Ellie tried to think but in her short time in Purgatory she hadn’t seen either of those things. It must have happened before she arrived. Gaunter nodded, his expression smug.

‘That’s what I thought. You put too much faith in someone without a soul. There is much you don’t know about my brother. The reason for your existence for instance, has he ever told you?’ Ellie didn’t like where this was going. She had never pried too much into Mort’s past, mainly because he didn’t like it, but also out of respect. Gaunter gave her a knowing look.

‘Of course he hasn’t. Far be it from me to do his dirty work, let’s talk about my deal instead.’ 

‘What makes you think I can even help?’ Ellie jumped down from boulder and landed nimbly on the bank. He shifted to adjust to her new position and even though she felt a little better now she wasn’t trapped on a rock over a suspended river, she still felt uneasy at being on level ground next to him. 

‘I’ve been able to look in on my world from a distance. My brother was kind enough to offer me windows but no doors. He truly wanted to torture me in this mundane hell. So I am quite aware of your… _status_. There aren’t many who can override something done by my dear brother, but you hold all the keys now don’t you? As leader of the gatekeepers.’

She took a step backwards, wanting to put some neutral ground between them, but Gaunter just followed her. His aura lightening so the rest of the forest came back into view and some of the darkness lessened in his eyes.

‘It’s taken me centuries to summon the strength to make the gateway open one way. I had no idea if it would work; who it would bring through or even where they would land. Once I felt your presence I tried to get you alone, but that _witcher_ wouldn’t leave your side. I even thought to fight fire with fire, but…well…we all know how that turned out.’ 

Another step backwards. ‘You sent Gaetan. You made him come after me.’ 

Another chuckle. ‘I didn’t have to _make_ him do anything, he was more than ready to come for your blood when I told him who you were. I only made the deal for my own benefit. Decent souls are so hard to come by here, such a waste to pass one up.’

Bile rose in her throat as she retreated again. The strong smell of sulphur on him should have been the first clue; demons only reeked like that when they were rabid, or on the verge of being so, and there was one sure fire way to make a demon rabid. Eating souls. Mortimer had forbidden it eons ago, creating the gatekeepers to effectively police demon kind and keep them from turning into their base and feral selves. From the way Gaunter smelt, he should have been rabid a long time ago, and yet he still maintained his civilized air. A shiver passed through Ellie as she thought about all the souls he had eaten, and she even felt a swell of pity for Gaetan who had been consigned to oblivion because of her.

‘And what if I refuse to let you out of here?’ She challenged through gritted teeth. Her feet were still taking her backwards but as Gaunter’s smile widened into an obscene, pantomime version of what a smile should be, she felt her body lock up of its own accord. Panic overwhelmed her as she tried to get her limbs to move again, but they stayed stubbornly fixed in place as Gaunter walked slowly towards her. 

‘Then I will remain trapped here, but so would _you._ I may have no power to escape myself but I have enough to keep you with me.’ He stopped a foot in front of her, his dark eyes raking up and down her immobile body, then he leant in so his mouth brushed against her ear. Ellie wanted to flinch away from his touch, her stomach churned at the unwanted physical contact. ‘But if I remain in hell, then so shall you. If you refuse me my dear, I will slaughter every living thing in this world, man, woman, child and monster. And once the land is awash with their blood, I will make you watch as I take apart your lover, piece…by…piece.’ 

Bile rose hot and sour in her throat. She tried to swallow it back but her muscles were constricted. She wanted to ask _, and what about the people I care about back in my world? Won’t you hurt them if I let you through?_ But no sound escaped her. It didn’t matter, Gaunter appeared to read her mind, cocking his head to the side.

‘You’re wondering about your friends back home, what will happen once I take what is rightfully mine? Well, that’s the deal. You send me back, I promise not bring undue harm or misery onto the dominions of Purgatory. You keep me here and I _promise_ you’ll regret it. We all have a choice Eleanor, even demons.’

She stared up at him mutely. Her arms shaking with the effort of trying to move them. After all this time, all this running, he had cornered her. _Stupid, stupid girl._ She could hear her teeth grinding together in frustration, partly due to Gaunter’s ultimatum but mostly because she couldn’t actually move her mouth either.

He gave her a mock look of surprise. ‘Oh dear, sorry. Here, let me help you.’ He raised hand and snapped his fingers sharply. He hadn’t needed to do that before, he was doing that purely to show off now. Ellie glared at him as she felt her limbs unlock, her mouth releasing too.

‘Doesn’t seem like I _have_ much of a choice.’ She said, rubbing her jaw. He cocked his head to one side, surveying her for a moment. Then gradually the smile dropped from his face, highlighting that ominous intelligence gleaming in his eyes.

‘You’re right. You don’t. So?’ He thrust his hand out towards her abruptly, making her jump back reflexively. He didn’t twitch at her skittishness. ‘Do we have a deal?’

She stared at the hand as if it were a rabid dog, snapping and snarling at her. Every fibre of her being told her _not_ to trust this guy. She wanted to spit at him, tell him to shove it and rot here forever as Mortimer intended; but then she remembered his threat and the way Geralt had looked when he’d known who was behind this. Nothing much stirred the white haired witcher, but he had looked like a scared child once Gaunter O’Dimm had been mentioned. She didn’t know him, never heard of him in fact, but that reaction alone told her unequivocally that he meant every word. 

Reaching out she slowly took his hand, wrapping her fingers around his unusually slim ones. As soon as she was within him grasp he clamped down on her with an iron grip, a familiar burning sensation stinging her wrist.

‘Very wise my dear. I’m not sure your heart could’ve taken another burden like that.’ A hiss escaped her as his grip momentarily tightened before he realised her. She staggered back, looking at the brand that had defined her for so long. Now with an added flourish, the triangle framed by two strangely curved symbols. 

‘The deal is done. I trust I don’t need to emphasise that trying to go back on your end or our bargain will result in some pretty nasty side effects. For you of course…not me.’ He flashed her a charming smile, then clapped his hands together. ‘Right, so shall we proceed?’ 

‘Now?’ Ellie asked frowning, her hand clamped over the sullied mark on her wrist. He gave her an incredulous look.

‘Yes now. What did you think, that I was going to wait until the next Conjuncture to get out?’ He waved his hands impatiently at her. ‘No time like the present.’

Her steps were unsteady as she moved, her feet moving automatically as she walked towards a large tree nearby. This must be what people with a gun to their head felt like. Although the gun wasn’t pointed at her in this scenario, but at everybody else, including her friends back home. She swallowed back tears as she knelt down and dipped her fingers into the mud, using it to daube on the homing mark of Purgatory onto the rough bark of the tree. Feeling Gaunter’s eyes burning into the back of her head, she sank to the ground in front of it, crossing her legs and attempting to clear her mind.

This proved harder than usual; not surprising considering she was being forced against her will. It went against everything she had been taught and everything she stood for, letting a dangerous demon back into their world. Especially one that had been personally banished by her leader. Still, the phantom image of Lambert lying pale, lifeless and torn apart before her kept filling her mind. So much so, that her hands shook as she rested them on her knees, making it difficult to focus on her task.

‘Chop chop, I haven’t got millennia.’ Gaunter snapped. A quiet rage filled her as she let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes, feeling for the familiar snag between worlds. Her hatred and anger towards the demon seemed to fuel her resolve, as she found the door pretty quickly. Unlike the last few times she caught hold of it and easily coaxed it into existence. The resistance that had prevented her from returning herself miraculously gone. It made her even more sick at the thought of letting this powerful demon just walk away.

She opened her eyes and the door she had been holding onto in her mind was solid and real, set into the trunk of the tree. It was an ordinary looking four panelled door; faded and chipped green paint making it blend in with the woodland surroundings, and marked in mud in the middle the triangle and ‘X’ that Ellie had put on the tree.

‘There.’ She said, trying to keep the emotion from her voice. 

‘Very good. Now let’s see if it leads to the right place.’ He strode past her, still sat on the ground, and turned the rusting brass knob on the door. She watched him as he opened the door and peered inside. ‘It’s been too long.’ He murmured, pulling his head back out to look at her.

‘Thank you, Ellie. I am truly grateful. You’re free to leave whenever you like, but if you don’t mind I’ll be shutting this gateway once I’m through. Need a bit of a head start on you.’ He winked at her, then reached into his tunic and pulled out a wooden spoon. Ellie frowned. He flicked his wrist and tossed the utensil at her, she caught it easily, her confused expression unwavering. ‘Tell young Geralt I said hello. I’ll see you in the new world my dear.’ With that he flashed her a smile that made her toes curl and swept through the door, shutting it with a click. 

In the blink of an eye the door vanished, leaving only the large tree with its mud mark, now smeared, in front of her. The sudden roaring of the river as it came back to life made her jump and she staggered to her feet in a daze. She had to get back to the keep. She began to walk, then jog, then run through the trees, back to Kaer Morhen, the spoon Gaunter had given her inexplicably still clutched in her hand. 

Her breath came ragged, an outpouring of emotion rather than a need to take in oxygen. She had managed to save thousands of innocent souls in this world, but what about Purgatory…what about her home? She had been living in a dream for these past few months, pretending like she was normal, but as she caught sight of the towering, grey walls of the witcher school she knew her time was up. She could feel the insistent tugging of her gut now pulling her away from here, back to where she had come from. Her friends needed her, even if it meant breaking her heart.

She launched herself over the eastern wall and landed nimbly in the inner yard. Gaunter had given his word he wouldn’t hurt anyone if she released him, but there was still a part of her that expected something horrific as she burst into the main hall. Geralt, Eskel and Vesemir all looked up at her in alarm from where they were sat near the fire. ‘Everything alright child?’ The old witcher asked gruffly. 

She froze, assessing the achingly normal setting. Everyone seemed fine, no injuries, nothing out of the ordinary. When she didn’t say anything Eskel rose from the bench, his expression worried. 

‘El? What’s happened?’ 

‘Where’s Lambert?’ She said, maybe a bit abruptly. Geralt stared at her with suspicious eyes.

‘Haven’t seen him since he dragged you off hours ago. Assumed you were still with him.’ He was still asleep. Without another word she marched off in the direction he had taken her before. Eskel’s hurried footsteps rang out behind her.

‘Slow down. What’s the matter? You look like you ran into a wraith.’ She felt her heart crack a tiny bit at the concern in his voice.

‘Eskel, please. I just need to find Lambert, then I’ll explain everything.’ His footsteps halted, and she left him behind as she tried to retrace her steps to Lambert’s old room. Maybe she was being selfish to keep them in the dark, but she wanted a moment alone with her witcher before she had to face the harsh truth. She got lost numerous times, her senses befuddled and distracted. The more she encountered dead ends and tried to go back on herself, the more disorientated she got. After what felt like an eternity she finally recognised one of the rooms he had dragged her through before. Breaking into a sprint she raced down corridor after corridor, sure she was nearly there, then rounding a corner she ran straight into a solid wall of muscles that let out a surprised grunt.

‘Whoa, where’s the fire?’ Lambert asked, grabbing hold of her shoulders as she stared up at him wide eyed. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him what had happened, to tell him she had to go, but instead all that came out were a stream of hot tears. ‘Ellie? Hey, what’s up?’

Lambert’s expression became concerned and she felt his fingers dig into her shoulders. 

‘I’m sorry.’ She stuttered, rubbing furiously at her traitor tears. ‘I just wanted to see you before…’.

Fear flashed across his features, and he gave her a gentle shake. ‘Before what? You’re fucking scaring me Blue eyes.’ She rubbed again at her face; _Purgatory, why was this so hard?_ A large hand wrapped around her wrist, and pulled it away from her eyes. Lambert frowned as he turned her arm so her brand was facing him, his eyes narrowing.

‘What’s this?’ He asked in a hard voice. Ellie felt her stomach flip. 

‘I saw him.’ She said. Fear turned quickly into anger.

‘Shit, did he hurt you?’ She shook her head. ‘Did you make a deal with him, is that what this means?’ He pressed his thumb into one of the symbols Gaunter had placed on her.

‘I-I had no choice.’ She said, her voice small. Lambert withdrew his hand as if she had slapped him. 

‘What have you done?’ 

She could feel the tears beginning to well again and before she became too emotional to appreciate it, she bounced up onto her toes and kissed him. Lambert remained motionless, his body rigid as she gripped his neck, the spoon still clutched awkwardly in her hand. She could sense his unease at the desperate way she kissed him, and when the tears finally dripped down her cheeks he gently extracted her.

‘Ellie?’ He asked again, his voice filled with fear. She sighed, and took a hold of his hand. 

‘Take me back to the main hall. I need to speak to the others.’ It was better to get this over with. Lambert was far too on edge for her to say her goodbye properly now, besides there was a good chance he’d try and stop her. With the other witchers around she could make them see sense. She didn’t belong here after all.

‘Fine, but no more running off. Every time you leave my sight one of us gets hurt or in trouble.’ He began leading her back through the keep and for the briefest moment Ellie hoped he’d lose his way and they’d stay like this forever. 

* * *

The witchers and sorceresses were gathered in the main hall, staring in silence at the demon girl in their midst. She had just finished explaining her encounter in the forest and had let her words drift away to nothing as she waited for their response.

‘You let him leave?’ Geralt finally said, his tone terse. He had turned pale the moment she had re-entered with Lambert and shown him the spoon Gaunter had given her. He had taken it from her very calmly, then abruptly snapped it in two, tossing the broken pieces onto the floor with a clatter.

‘Like I said, he didn’t give me much of a choice. Didn’t want to test him when he threatened to kill all life in this world if I didn’t give him what he wanted.’ Geralt’s mouth pulled into a thin line. 

‘I defeated him once, so he’s not invincible.’ Ellie tilted her head.

‘You _outsmarted_ him once. Not sure you could have pulled it off a second time.’ 

‘So, what? You’re just going to follow him back and face him alone?’ She turned her attention from Geralt to his scarred brother. Eskel was looking at her with a mixture of anger and defiance. 

‘I won’t be alone. I have friends where I’m from, besides he’s my responsibility now. I unleashed him, I need to fix this.’ Eskel’s frowned at her, clearly wanting to say more but knowing her mind was made up. His glare softened into a heart wrenchingly sad expression, and Ellie felt a lump form in her throat.

‘I… _we’ll_ miss you El.’ He finished, averting his eyes to the floor. Vesemir moved on her peripheral, walking slowly up to her and resting a hand on her shoulder.

‘Can’t deny what Eskel said. It’s been…refreshing, having you around the place and I’m eternally grateful for what you’ve done to the keep.’ He cleared his throat suddenly, his wrinkled lined face contorted with emotion. ‘Stay safe child. This O’Dimm character sounds formidable.’ He squeezed her shoulder gently and let go.

‘Yen and I wish you well.’ Triss piped up. Her green eyes kind and open as always. Yennefer stood next to her, her arms folded, an imperious expression on her perfect face. She raised an eyebrow slowly at Triss’ presumptive comment but let her continue. ‘You’ve been good company, and I would offer a protection spell but from what I’ve heard about your world I doubt it would help.’ 

Ellie smiled at her and shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think it would, but the thought is enough. Thank you Triss, and you too Yen.’ The dark-haired sorceress shifted uncomfortably under Ellie’s gaze.

‘Well, it certainly was interesting and informative having a demon around for so long. I’ve learnt valuable things.’ 

‘ _Yen._ ’ Geralt chided but she barely flinched. Ellie’s smile turned wry. 

‘Glad I could help.’ She glanced nervously at the last remaining member of their troupe. He hadn’t said a word to her since leading her here. His expression the familiar hardened scowl she had grown so used to over the months. He was staring at his feet, his arms crossed in a similar fashion to Yen’s. He was acting like this wasn’t happening, as if that would stop it. 

‘I just wanted to thank you all, for helping me…and trusting me. You didn’t have to, you could have left me to fend for myself, especially when you knew what I was. I’ll never forget my time here, or any of you.’ She spoke to the group but she watched Lambert the hardest. Her chest felt like it was about to tear apart completely. Saying goodbye like this was harder than she’d thought it would be. At least they’d had some time together, and he’d be here, _alive_. 

She paused, waiting to see if he’d say anything or acknowledge what was about to happen. The others could feel the awkward tension growing between the pair, she could tell by their darting eyes. She pleaded with him silently in her head to say something, make this easier on both of them. Painfully slowly he looked up, meeting her desperate gaze. The muscles around his eyes twitched, and she saw his mouth tilt down, then he collected himself and applied a neutral expression. It made the pain in her chest flare, causing her to almost wince as he walked towards her.

He stopped a few feet from her, those amber eyes burning a hole through her. ‘Guess I fulfilled my end of our deal. Now we know what brought you here and you can go home.’ She didn’t like the bitterness in his voice. It sounded forced and far too harsh.

‘Yeah, you did.’ She replied. 

Lambert nodded once and then said nothing else. The feeling in her chest was like being ripped apart from the inside, as if something was forcing its way out of her. She had felt it only a few times in her unfortunate life, and had hoped she would never feel it again. At least this time she didn’t have to live with the guilt of another life lost. Just the guilt of a love left behind. 

She gathered what few things she had from her borrowed room – Yen and Triss had insisted she keep her trousers, she needed them more – and made her preparations in the main hall. They had wanted to watch her go and she felt they had earned that right. Even so, she felt a twinge of stage fright as she drew the homing mark on the stone wall, not to mention the aching sadness of leaving them all behind so suddenly. 

She turned to face them and gave them one last nod of goodbye. Her eyes lingered on Lambert and she saw his eyes dart down to the opening in his shirt that she still wore, where the soft sparkle of the sapphire he had given her, glittered against her throat. He looked back up at her sharply and she hurriedly turned away and sank to the floor. Unable to trust her already weakened emotions.

Again, she reached out with her mind and found the snag between worlds. Again, it took very little effort to take hold and draw upon it to summon the door. Gaunter’s hold over her had truly lifted now he was gone. There had been the smallest, niggling doubt in her mind not putting it past him to trap her there. She felt it solidify in front of her and when she opened her eyes there, set in the stone wall as if it had always been there, was a wooden, four panelled door. 

She could hear the murmurs behind her. For the gathered audience it would have looked like the door had appeared in an instant. ‘Melitele’s wisdom. That’s a queer looking portal.’ Vesemir’s gruff undertone carried better than the others.

Ellie could feel the lump rising again in her throat and she was desperate not to draw this out and risk crying, or worse, staying. She let out a shaky breath and approached the door, her hand grasping the worn brass knob gingerly. Glancing over her shoulder she gave the assembled witchers and women a tight smile.

‘I’ll never forget you all. You have my gratitude.’ They smiled in return, all except Lambert, who remained impassive and hardened to her teary goodbye. ‘The gateway will shut once I’m through. It’ll be like I was never here.’ 

Vesemir bowed his head, the same act of respect he had shown her after her trial to prove her intentions. ‘You will always have a home here Ellie. You are one of us now.’ The lump pressed uncomfortably against her throat and she didn’t think she could respond. Her eyes drifted one last time to Lambert, who met her blurry gaze. 

‘I-I’m sorry it ended this way. I’ll always…always love you.’ She whispered, her voice cracking even with no force behind it. His eyes widened a fraction but he stayed quiet. Probably for the best she thought. Hearing him say it back would likely break her. 

She turned the knob and opened the door just enough to slip through, keeping her eyes on her friends. Tentatively she took a step back and raised her free hand in a gesture of goodbye. Time seemed to slow as she backed further into the door, the different scents and feeling of the world on the other side juxta posed with the familiar smells of Kaer Morhen. Lambert went from standing motionless and indifferent, to launching into a full sprint. Her one foot was already through the door, the other lifted to follow. She saw his brothers shout out in alarm, but his face was set in an expression of single-minded determination. His hand outstretched towards her.

She was so surprised that she wasn’t quick enough to pull her hand out of reach, her body all the way through the door as his fingers brushed against her lightly. She saw a flash of his wild eyes as they were both pulled backwards through the gateway. The change in environments jarring and disorientating. Then they were tumbling to the ground. He landed on her in a cold, dark alleyway, the sound of cars and people only a few feet from them. The door clicked shut behind them and when Ellie managed to get her breath back from the unexpected landing, she saw it had vanished from the wall, closing her off from the witcher’s world, but leaving one doubled over on top of her, retching and panting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, so this is the end of part two, hope you've enjoyed Kaer Morhen in all its glory. I'm going to take a little break for the next two weeks to get ahead again. Have had some personal stuff happen and am too far behind for my own liking now. Fear not, I will continue posting after the break, but I need a bit of time to get my affairs in order and to get a few chapters in hand. Thanks so much for your patience, I appreciate you all. :)


	29. Chapter 29

Part Three – The Other Side

Chapter 29

_‘It strikes me profoundly that the world is more often than not a bad and cruel place.’_

_-_ _Bret Easton Ellis,_ [ _American Psycho_ ](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2270060)

The first thing that hit him was the smell. It was a cloying, pungent concoction that made him instantly want to gag. It wasn’t the same as the reek of a swamp or the sweet stench of decay on a rotting corpse, but it clogged his throat and made it hard for him to breath. The second thing he noticed was the noise; it was a constant barrage of sound bombarding his ears. Roaring and screeching and banging. It was like being in an arena full of monsters all fighting to the death to get out. 

Then there were the lights. They were overwhelmingly bright. Burning points of radiance that hurt his sensitive witcher eyes. He was in a narrow alley, and it was night, but the sky was lit up by a strange glow that looked nothing like moonlight. He squinted and coughed against the foreign surroundings, then his stomach rolled and the effects of going through a portal finally caught up with him. Leaning to one side he emptied the contents of his guts onto the stone ground. It was only when a noise of disgust came from somewhere underneath him that he realised he was on top of a warm body.

Hands pushed against his already sore stomach and forced him to roll over. Lambert took a moment to catch his breath and spit the bitter taste of bile out of his mouth before trying to stagger to his feet. Ellie remained prone on the ground, staring up at him with horrified eyes.

‘What the _fuck_ did you do?’ She snapped. He tried to formulate a coherent thought, but all the noise and lights, not to mention the fucking stench of the place, made it hard for him to think. 

‘You were going to leave me.’ He managed to say, pressing a palm to his forehead to try and keep the words from flying away. Gods he had a headache. ‘I couldn’t let you.’ 

‘You shouldn’t be here.’ She said, her voice nearer to him now, he attempted to focus his over stimulated eyes. She was stood right next to him; her expression livid. 

‘Well, I’m here now. What is this place?’ He tried to look past her and out towards the majority of the noise and blindingly bright lights were.

‘This is London.’ She replied, her tone still saturated with anger. ‘Although I was aiming for Purgatory, so something isn’t right.’ She gave him a sidelong look, her eyes narrowing to thin slits. ‘Don’t know how to get back to _your_ world so you’re stuck here for now.’ She gave him a look like this was his fault and not hers for trying to ditch and run. Lambert felt a jolt of nausea rock through him; well…maybe it was a little his fault.

‘Stay with me and don’t wander off. I can’t deal with a lost witcher in London and whatever it is O’Dimm is currently doing to my home.’ 

He could hardly see her and his headache was getting worse, but he did his best to follow the blurry outline that was Ellie as she walked towards the lights. It was definitely night, as he could see only black when he looked straight up, but the sky was devoid of stars and there was no moon visible over the towering stone buildings that surrounded them. They reached the end of the alley and Ellie paused for a moment, her head sweeping from side to side. She glanced over her shoulder and appraised Lambert for a second.

‘Don’t talk to anyone either.’ She added as a side note as she stepped out of the shadows and he completely lost her from view. It was like taking a triple dose of cat and walking into broad daylight. Lambert shut his eyes instinctually as he moved out of the comparatively dark alley and into what sounded like a main thoroughfare. Instead of the familiar beat of horses’ hooves and carts there was that horrendous roaring sound, like a pack of wyverns with a toothache were racing back and forth in front of him. 

His nose flared, trying to compensate for his lack of vision, and took in a large whiff of that choking stench that permeated the air around him. He coughed, trying to clear his nostrils so he could at least smell where Ellie had gone but it only resulted in letting more of the disgusting smog into his lungs. Blinded and gasping for air, Lambert moved his feet in the direction he was sure he had last seen blurry Ellie walking in. 

The ground was made of something hard and unforgiving like stone, but it was flat. Too flat, perfectly flat. It felt strange and disorientating, especially when the ground suddenly disappeared beneath his feet and he dropped a foot, making him windmill his arms wildly for purchase. He managed to balance himself and found the lower ground still the same strange hard flatness, so he continued to walk. The wyverns sounded louder and through his squinted eyes he could just make out large, fast moving shadows flying past him. The noise appeared to be coming from them. 

What was this place? How did she do anything with all this racket and light?

He walked a few more steps, before a high-pitched wailing erupted from behind him. It sounded like the loudest war horn he had ever heard, and whomever was blowing it was approaching at a rapid pace. Lambert turned, but still blinded he couldn’t make out where the horn was coming from. All he saw was a looming dark mass that was charging towards him. Instinctually he reached for his sword but found his back bare. Of course, he hadn’t been wearing them when he fell through the portal with Ellie. He tried to make himself look bigger, hoping whatever monster was attacking him would decide better of it, and extended his hand to attempt to use Aard to repel it. 

He made the sign in the air, but there was no familiar tingle of power in his fingers, and the charging beast didn’t slow, its ear-splitting cry now deafening to him. For the first time in a long time Lambert felt panic. He couldn’t see or hear, he had no idea what this thing was and he couldn’t hope to outrun it. He braced himself for impact but just before the large thundering mass of black hit him, he felt a smaller, softer impact on his side. He was thrust to the ground, and hit his shoulder hard on the strange flat stone. The thing that had hit him landed on him with a grunt, and the charging monster flashed past, its horn now coming out in short, angry staccato bursts.

‘Yeah, and the same to you fucker!’ Ellie shouted from on top of him. ‘What in Purgatory were you doing, walking into the road like that?’ This was directed at him, it was a lot quieter but no less annoyed. 

‘I can’t fucking _see._ ’ He shot back angrily, feeling a flush of chagrin at having already got into trouble in her world. ‘What was that thing?’ 

There was an exasperated sigh and he felt her weight leave him as she got up. ‘A car. It’s like a cart, but faster and made of metal.’ 

He tried to look up at her but it was still just a blur of light and shadow. Another sigh. ‘Close your eyes, then slowly open them until they adjust.’ 

Lambert was so fed up and disorientated he obeyed without a snarky comment, a truly momentous occasion. Sure enough, after a few minutes of slowly opening his eyes bit by bit, his sensitive pupils were able to adjust to the harsh lights and he could make out his surroundings. Even with his sight back the witcher had a hard time understanding what he was seeing. It was a road, just like Ellie had said, except it was filled with the fast moving, metal carts she had described. They had no horses or oxen pulling them, they were running as if by magic. He couldn’t even see the people or goods they were transporting. Just faceless moving boxes of metal and glass. The roaring wyvern noise was coming from them, and occasionally he could hear the high-pitched war horn sounding in the distance. 

He was sat on the flat grey stone that made up the ground here, but on a slightly raised part to one side of where the ‘cars’ were. This part of the road was no less busy however, but it was filled with hundreds, upon hundreds of people walking. It may not have been that many, but even in Novigrad at the height of Belleteyn he had never seen so many people, and they were all wearing such weird garments. A few of them glanced curiously down at the man sat on the floor staring up at them with wide, cat like eyes, but the majority of them were looking down at something in their hands, or talking loudly to no one in particular. 

Lambert turned to focus on Ellie again, she was looking down at him with a concerned but slightly amused expression. He got the distinct impression she was laughing at him but he was too overwhelmed by everything to care. She offered her hand for him to get up but he brushed it aside, not unkindly, and righted himself. Brushing down his leather breeches he gave her a sideways look.

‘How do you manage to get anything done with all this noise?’ She gave him a small smirk and shrugged.

‘You get used to it. Although I did like the quiet of your world. Made a nice change.’ Happy that he was at least able to see her again she began to walk off into the ever-flowing river of people. Seamlessly weaving her way through the bodies, not attracting the slightest bit of attention. Lambert, on the other hand, drew a few more eyes than her, some of them even looking up from whatever they had in their hands to stare openly at him. He shot them the same contemptuous glare he reserved for anyone who was stupid enough to leer at him, but there was none of the disgust or hatred he was used to behind their looks. Only curiosity.

After a bit he found it easier to ignore the stares and focus on where Blue eyes was leading him through this horrendously crowded and enormous city. She walked with the easy confidence of someone who knows their surroundings, and Lambert felt himself trusting her implicitly as she led him down busy roads and winding alleys. Eventually they turned off the main thoroughfare and onto quieter streets, where there were less people, less strange carts and most importantly, less lights. It was still lit up by the tall ever burning candles that lined the side of the road, but there was none of the vividly coloured, blaring lights covering every building. 

Lambert couldn’t get over how tall everything was. No matter how far they travelled through the city, they were always surrounded by towering walls of stone. It was hard to tell if the buildings were shops or places of residence as they all had the same angular design that belayed nothing. Ellie kept periodically glancing over her shoulder to check on him, but he was behaving like a good little boy. He hadn’t started any fights or caused any trouble since the ‘car’ incident.

That was until he found himself skirting round a cluster of dark-skinned men that were all gathered beneath one of the tall light structures. They were talking loudly to each other and inhaling some kind of strong-smelling medicinal substance. Lambert wasn’t sure what it did, but he had seen druids doing something similar in his world. They ignored Ellie, much like everyone else had previous, but one of them looked over at him as he passed close by.

The man reached out and grabbed Lambert’s arm, stopping him briefly in his tracks. ‘Yo blud, them’s some fancy looking garms. Where you get them?’ Lambert frowned at the man, his eyes slightly bloodshot as he tried to interpret what he had said. Before he could formulate a response however, the man caught sight of his eyes and his face split into a wide grin. ‘Forget the garms man, you got some sick contacts. Your eyes look well beast.’ He turned to his friends who were all now paying attention to the exchange, a few of them made noises of assent and moved their hands rapidly in the air. Lambert reflexively pulled away from the man’s grasp, certain they were about to try and attack with some kind of magic. Instead they all flinched with him and gave him mistrustful looks. The man who had originally stopped him held up his hands in a familiar gesture of surrender.

‘Yo, chill. Was just paying you a compliment blud. You get me?’ Lambert didn’t know how to respond. He was so used to people being repulsed by his mutations that having them interested, and even complementary of them felt like an out of body experience. Luckily, before he could open his mouth and inadvertently cause more offence Ellie appeared by his side.

‘Excuse my friend lads. He’s a bit nervous of strangers. We’re on our way to a fancy-dress party. Have a nice night.’ The men looked at Blue eyes as if she had just popped into existence, not walked right by them and doubled back in the middle of an empty street. The one that had stopped him gave her a bemused look then nodded, already turning back to his friends.

‘It’s cool yo. Just tell your friend to be less skittish. Never know who might pull a blade when you act all freakish like that.’ Ellie was dragging Lambert away by the time they had returned to the conversation. He glared down at her.

‘Didn’t need rescuing like some damsel.’ He muttered.

‘Really?’ She said, her jaw tight. ‘Cos from where I was stood it looked like you were about to punch one of them. Just try and blend in.’ 

His teeth ground together at her annoyed tone. ‘And how, exactly, do you want me to do that when I look like this?’ He waved a hand at his attire. She didn’t even look at him as she marched him around the corner and into another alley.

‘I’m working on that.’ She bit out and continued on in silence. After a few more tense minutes, they came upon a building that look somewhat familiar to Lambert. It wasn’t as tall as the buildings on either side of it, but it had a much more impressive air about it. It was made of stone, however, unlike the strange flat stone that everything so far had been constructed of, this was rough-hewn blocks and elaborately carved pieces of masonry. It looked a lot older than the angular structures around it and had large double oak doors, banded with black iron. High vaulted windows lined the sides and above the door was a round window filled with intricately painted glass. This looked like a temple of some kind.

The temple was dark and looked to be empty but Ellie didn’t break step as she strode up to it and pushed on one of the heavy wooden doors. It opened with an aching groan and she gave Lambert a look before slipping inside. Unsure what any of this meant or why they had come to this odd juxtaposition of a building in the dead of night, he followed behind her, shutting the door with an equally loud creak behind them.

The temple was completely dark inside. It smelt of incense and wood oil, and it felt like home. Lambert let out a long sigh as his eyes adjusted with relish to the naturally dark surroundings. The thick stone walls blocked out most of the city noise apart from the occasional blare of those car horns. Their footsteps were the only real sound as they walked into the middle of the temple, between two rows of benches. The ever burning light from outside shone a little through the windows, casting colourful patterns on the floor.

Lambert was enjoying the sanctuary from the new world outside when Ellie began calling out, her voice bouncing off the stonework. ‘Father Eli. Are you awake? It’s Ellie.’ 

The temple remained still and silent even as her voice faded, but then a burst of soft light appeared beneath a door to the far end of the building. The light oozed out as a person opened the door and stared blinking out into the cold room.

‘Ellie? Is that you? What’s the matter?’ A voice far younger than Lambert had been expecting called over to them, then the owner of the voice followed. When Ellie had said ‘Father’ he had thought of an old, bent over priest, with a tumbling white beard and failing eyes. Instead a man in his late twenties approached them, his thick curly mop of hair a little tousled from sleep, his dark eyes flicking from Ellie to Lambert inquisitively. 

‘Sorry Eli, but I’m trying to find Enoch. Have you seen him?’ Father Eli rubbed a hand over his face.

‘I have. He came to the sanctuary a few days ago, he may still be here. You’re welcome to look.’ Ellie placed a hand on his arm.

‘Thanks, now go back to bed. I’ll be sure to use the back door on the way out.’ 

‘Of course, and maybe later you can introduce me to your new friend.’ Eli said with a yawn. Lambert tilted his head awkwardly at the priest, unsure what was happening.

‘I’m Lambert.’ He offered unhelpfully. Father Eli fixed him with eyes that were certainly more awake than the rest of him.

‘Pleasure to meet you Lambert. You’ll find safe refuge and hospitality within these walls.’ The witcher wanted to ask what he meant by the strange greeting but Ellie was already a good few feet away from him with no indication of stopping. He quickly caught up with her as Father Eli shuffled back to what must be his quarters. 

‘What is this place?’ He whispered, conscious his voice travelled in the empty room. 

‘It’s a church. Quite ironic really.’ Ellie replied as she approached a table covered in a clean white cloth, a brass cross ornament set reverently upon it. 

‘Ironic how?’ He said, not sure what the irony actually _was._

‘Churches are holy places in my world, and traditionally demons and their kind are considered anything but holy.’ She was moving around the table and lifting the cloth to reveal something. ‘Father Eli is an exception to his faith, in as much as he believes _all_ things deserve to be treated with kindness and tolerance.’ 

There was a loud thud as Ellie bent down to lift something, then she gave Lambert another expectant look before disappearing under the table. Moving around it, he saw a hidden trap door had been opened and Ellie was descending down a flight of wooden stairs. There was no light but his eyes were just about good enough to see her outline vanishing below. With little choice and feeling increasingly out of his depth, Lambert followed, being sure to shut the trap door above him.

They descended a short way, arriving in a small, dark room that was only just big enough to house the both of them in it. He was pressed against Ellie’s back as she negotiated yet another door. There was still the angry tension emanating from her, and he knew she was annoyed he had followed her here. They needed to talk about it but right now was clearly not a good time.

There were faint noises coming from the other side, the low rumble of voices and movement. As Ellie opened the door the voices fell instantly silent, a fearful kind of hush settling over the room. Stepping in Lambert saw a dozen or so people gathered in what looked like a cellar, except instead of barrels of produce or drink there were tables and chairs set up as if this was a communal living space. The people occupying the space all stared at the new arrivals as they moved inside, the door clicking shut behind them. 

There were the same brutally strong lights strung up along the curved stone ceiling, and now he was closer Lambert could hear a dim buzzing sound coming from them. The cellar stretched the length of the temple, or church as Ellie had called it, above, but there were doorways leading off like limbs from the main body of it. A few smaller heads peeked out from these doorways, it looked like this was some kind of refuge for families or lost souls. Scanning the faces, he picked up on the strange coloured eyes and ethereal features of the people. Even as he noticed this his medallion tremored as one of them detached from the group and moved towards them.

‘Ellie, we were worried something had happened to you. Enoch said you vanished nearly a fortnight ago.’ The woman who had spoken was in her mid-forties and had a halo of flaxen curls tumbling around her attractive face. She smiled at Ellie with vivid, almost luminescent green eyes, but Lambert’s attention was immediately caught by the distinctive elongated canines poking down below her upper lip. His medallion jumped wildly as she turned her eyes to him, her friendly smile faltering as she took in his unfamiliar presence. 

‘I don’t believe we’ve met before, I am Rachel.’ She said, her tone guarded.

‘He’s a friend of mine.’ Ellie interceded. ‘Have I only been gone a fortnight?’

Rachel looked back at her. ‘Yes, why?’

‘No reason.’ Ellie replied dismissively. The blonde haired…woman? Demon? Lambert really wasn’t sure, gave him another curious look before a high-pitched cry of delight drew the room’s attention.

‘Ellie!’ A small golden ball of hair and clothes dashed over to them and collided with impressive force into Blue eyes. She smiled, for the first time since they’d got here, and wrapped her arms around what now looked like a little girl of around 7, her small moon face surrounded by the same curls as Rachel. They were clearly related and from the way Rachel’s green eyes softened at the exchange Lambert guessed at her being the child’s mother. 

‘Hey Tia. My, you’ve grown.’ The girl beamed up at Ellie with wild green eyes, her white teeth perfectly even apart from the same pronounced canines as Rachel.

‘I have, I have. Soon I’ll be as tall as you.’ Ellie ruffled the girl’s mad hair affectionately, the crown of her head only just level with her waist. ‘Are you staying here?’ Tia asked hopefully. The smile on Ellie’s face dimmed.

‘Afraid not. Just looking for Enoch, but I’ll visit for longer soon…promise.’ Tia looked crest fallen. 

‘He came here a while ago, then some slayers got close to the church and he told them to go away.’ Tia sounded resigned as she told Ellie. Rachel curled an arm around the girl and pulled her to her side. Ellie looked up at the woman, alarmed.

‘There were slayers here?’ Rachel gave her a small smile.

‘Don’t worry. Enoch saw them off, and Dante doubled the guard around the church.’ Lambert felt his gut twist uncomfortably. He had heard that word before, when he had first met Blue eyes. He kept his expression neutral but the blonde woman still gave him a sideways glance. ‘He’s probably with Dante at his club right now if you want to try there.’ She finished. 

Ellie rubbed a hand over her face. ‘Thanks Rach. I’ll check there.’ She chucked the little girl under the chin, earning her a grin and made to go. Rachel looked at Lambert suspiciously.

‘So what kind of hybrid are you? I’ve never seen anything with eyes like yours.’ He was unsure whether he should respond. Every encounter so far had left him feeling confused, and Lambert had decided he really didn’t like not knowing what was going on. As if sensing his unease Ellie jumped in again. 

‘A new kind. He’s with me until I can figure out what to do with him.’ Rachel’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

‘Okay, stay safe Ellie. No disappearing this time.’ 

Ellie gave her a tight smile. ‘Sure thing.’ 

Taking that as his cue to leave, Lambert gladly followed Ellie back out of the cellar. A backward glance saw the other ‘people’ moving to gather round Rachel and Tia. Their ethereal faces all staring at him impassively. It sent a cold shiver shooting down his spine, and his medallion gave one last token shake before he quickly left the room.

The church was dark again as they came up through the trap door. Father Eli had clearly gone back to bed. Instead of walking back through the wooden benches and out the front, Ellie led him through a side door and into the back rooms of the building. Pushing aside some boxes, she revealed another door, this one leading outside and into a back alley. The noise and smells of the city still hit Lambert like a runaway cart, but at least this time he was braced for it. He wrinkled his nose against the pungent stench and tried to stay focused on the sound of Ellie’s boots clicking against the stone.

She walked a few feet away from the church and turned to survey him. ‘Well, you haven’t caused too much fuss so far, but I think we better change our clothes before we head to Dante’s.’ 

‘What were they?’ He asked, changing the subject. Ellie looked confused for a second then frowned.

‘Does it matter?’ She replied defensively. 

‘Yeah.’ He snapped back, his anger and frustration at being led around like a stray dog starting to fray at his nerves. ‘It does. Call it professional curiosity.’

‘There’s a mixture. Rachel and Tia are vampires, amongst a few others. There are a one or two sucubi, incubi and even a werewolf living there at the moment. All of them hybrids, and all of them hunted.’ She folded her arms and scowled at him. ‘Happy now?’ 

Lambert blinked. ‘Vampires? Sucubi? Werewolf? What the fuck is going on down there Blue eyes. You starting a cult of monsters?’ 

‘Not all monsters are bad. I thought you knew that? Some are just trying to live peaceful lives. Father Eli and I set up the sanctuary for those who wanted shelter from the ones trying to destroy them.’ 

‘And who might they be?’ He said, folding his own arms.

‘Gatekeepers, the ones that think all hybrids are vermin, and…others.’ She trailed off, her eyes darting away.

‘Slayers?’ Lambert asked. Ellie looked back at him sheepishly. 

‘Yes.’ 

‘You called me a slayer once.’ He took a step closer, until he was crowding her space. Her annoyance at him dimmed and she looked upset almost.

‘I was wrong okay. You’re not like them.’ She was trying to dodge the subject but Lambert knew the signs.

‘They’re monster hunters? Like me?’ There was a long pause, during which another horn sounded in the distance. Then Ellie nodded.

‘They’re humans who hunt hybrids…and demons occasionally. They’re not much to worry about, but when they come in large numbers they can be dangerous to people like Tia and Rachel.’ Her eyes flashed brightly with anger even in the weird orange light of the ever-burning candles.

‘Okay.’ Lambert said, realising he had pushed her too far. ‘Where are we going now then?’

Ellie let out a long sigh. ‘We’re looking for my partner. Rachel seems to think he may be with Dante, the leader of their coven, so we’re going to find out.’ Her eyes shifted up and down his body. ‘But like I said, we probably need to find a change of clothes. Better you blend in than draw more attention.’ 

He stared down at her. He wanted nothing more than to grab her and pull her to him. It had been a long, bizarre few hours but he was grateful she was still with him. He’d have to worry about getting back to Geralt and the others at some point, but right now he’d help Ellie. Even if that meant spending more time in this strange world of blinding lights, deadly carts and monsters that needed a safe place to hide from humans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, I have returned as promised. Thank you all for being patient with me. I needed a few weeks to sort some personal life stuff and get my head back in the game. We're pushing on with part three and on to the end of the epically long story that I so did not intend to end up this long, but I've committed now so there we go. XD. I hope you have all been well whilst I've been away, it's been a strange year indeed. So kick back and take your mind off it all with some good old Lambert fanfiction. So glad to be back, missed you all! :)


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Ellie tilted her head appraisingly as Lambert stepped out of the changing room. He had swapped his black and red leather armour for a pair of dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt and black boots. The t-shirt hugged his body just enough to show his muscles, and the way the jeans fitted his rear made Ellie feel hot under her new vest top and hoodie. The only thing that ruined the image was the expression on Lambert’s face. His forehead was scrunched up and there was a permanent grimace on his face as if he was experiencing a particularly bad headache.

‘Not bad. Think it’s missing something though.’ She said, drawing his eyes to her. They stood out even more in the mundane department store setting. His skin looked pale under the florescent lights, the scars earnt from his life as a witcher making him look even more alien. 

Ellie ignored his perturbed look and handed him a black leather jacket to cover up his arms. Lambert took it gingerly and examined it before raising an eyebrow at her. ‘You expect this to protect me? I look like an actor playing a mercenary right now.’ 

She rolled her eyes. ‘People don’t go around stabbing each other in this world Lambert. Besides, the weapons they tend to use wouldn’t be stopped by your armour anyway. Better you look like you belong than worry about a sword fight breaking out.’ 

He looked sceptical but still shrugged the jacket on. Now she definitely felt the blush rise up her neck to her cheeks. These clothes…suited him. With his dark, slicked back hair and rough beard he looked like a gangster. Ellie cleared her throat loudly and strode away from him. 

‘Good enough. Come on.’ She took her neatly folded leather trousers and borrowed white shirt from the witcher world and handed it to the petite, dark skinned woman behind the counter. 

‘Thanks Aliya. Keep these safe, will you?’ The woman smiled warmly, her russet eyes creasing at the corners.

‘Of course. Anything for you zaeim.’ Her lilting foreign accent and the subtle crimson edge to her irises were the only sign that she wasn’t human. The ifrit glanced at Lambert as he approached behind Ellie and handed her his own bundle of folded leather. Her smile grew wider and her eyes flicked up and down his form.

‘I am glad we could find something more…suitable for you to wear bashri.’ She said silkily. Ellie’s expression turned to granite and she took hold of the witcher’s arm.

‘See you soon. Try to stay out of trouble.’ Aliya’s smile faded and she gave her a small nod of acknowledgment. 

‘May the wind carry your feet zaeim.’ She murmured and quickly turned away to serve another customer. 

‘She wasn’t human either, was she?’ Lambert muttered as he let himself be pulled along by Ellie out of the department store. The staff were beginning to shut up for the night, and the aisles were all but free of other shoppers. Even so, she kept her voice low as she replied.

‘No, she was a demon.’ 

‘I thought your job was to keep them in Purgatory.’ He stated.

‘Some get through the cracks; some are seeking a new life, or escaping a bad one. As long as they don’t harm the humans or upset the balance I see no problem with them staying.’

‘The griffin and the leshen make a lot more sense now.’ He said.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ 

‘Nothing. It means nothing Blue eyes.’ She gave him a incredulous look then continued to walk out of the store. 

Back on the street she was mildly satisfied to see Lambert wince from the onslaught of sight and sounds of the city. Their relationship had done a full 180 since coming here. Now he was the one following her around with no idea what was going on or where to go. It felt slightly cathartic, but there was still that underlying fear of what to do with him now he _was_ here. 

She could only thank her luck that she hadn’t been able to get to Purgatory – which was where she had been heading when she left Kaer Morhen. If she had managed to return to the demon world and Lambert had followed her, there was no telling what would have happened to him. The only things that inhabited that world were soulless demons, and her. Souls generally arrived as disembodied floating lights that were shepparded to their final destination. No one living had ever entered that realm as far as she knew, and she wasn’t about to start experimenting with Lambert.

She was so deep in thought that she didn’t realise how far they had walked until she felt the rumbling beat of bass music thumping through the soles of her new sneakers. Coming out of her reverie her eyes immediately went to the burning red neon sign that read ‘Inferno’ above a nondescript dark fronted building. There was a small queue of people waiting outside and two imposing bouncers stood at the door, arms folded in front of them. It was still early in the evening, relatively speaking, so she hoped the club wasn’t as chaotic as it usually was. She needed to find Enoch and let him know what had happened.

‘Is this a tavern?’ Lambert’s voice came from close behind her. He was looking at the club with a sense of trepidation, and despite her earlier thoughts Ellie felt a swell of empathy at his lost look. 

‘In a way. A lot noisier and less about the drinking than a tavern though.’ She said. With a small smile of encouragement, she took his hand. The witcher started and glanced down at their entwined fingers, she gave him a gentle tug. ‘Come on. We won’t be in there long.’

Towing him behind her she approached the glowering bouncers; a few of the people waiting in line shot her annoyed looks but she ignored them. She flashed one of them a bright grin, and he returned the favour. His angry face transforming into a friendly expression.

‘Hey there Ellie. Been a while, thinking you didn’t care about us anymore.’

She gave him an apologetic shrug. ‘I know, been busy. Is Dante in tonight?’ The bouncer nodded.

‘Sure, he’s around. Shall I tell him you’re here?’ Ellie waved a hand dismissively. 

‘Nah, I’ll find him. My friend is coming with me too.’ The bouncer’s eyes flicked to Lambert, then down to their clasped hands. He raised a thick eyebrow, his grin widening.

‘Oh aye. I’m sure he is.’ He stepped aside to let them through, much to the disgruntled protests from the waiting patrons. ‘Keep an eye on him El. You know what Dante’s like with fresh meat.’ He winked at her as she led Lambert into the club, the bass music now pressing in on her eardrums uncomfortably. She felt the grip on her hand tighten and looking up at Lambert she could see him grimacing, as if he was in pain. He noticed her looking, his amber eyes shining down at her, the pupils widened due to the low light. 

‘Why is everything so noisy here?’ He asked, his teeth gritted. He wasn’t raising his voice a great amount even as the music got louder, but she was close enough to hear him.

‘I don’t know. I guess people don’t like silence in my world.’ She replied. Just as she finished they reached the main area in the club. Inferno may have looked unimpressive from the outside but it certainly made up for it inside. 

She wasn’t entirely sure why the head of a vampire coven had decided to open a prominent night club in the heart of London, but in truth she wasn’t entirely sure about a lot of things when it came to Dante. Regardless, Inferno was a popular meeting place for the young elite of the city. Maybe it was the modernist and expensive design, the walls a bare white with bright lines of colour that glowed in the black lights of the club. The furniture was ultra-modern and always filled with groups of people drinking expensive drinks and wearing designer clothes. There was a wide space in the centre for dancing, the floor lit but thousands of tiny lights so it looked like you were dancing on the night sky. 

It certainly grabbed your attention but it could also have been the fact that the club was always hosting the newest and hottest talent in the city, drawn to the place by Dante’s unending charism and charm. He liked to surround himself with interesting people, which was why his club was the only place humans rubbed shoulders with hybrids. It was a safe haven for the outcasts of society. No slayers or gatekeepers wanting an easy hunt would dare try and attack this place. Dante may be a pacifist now, but he had a long-standing history in the city that many would never forget. 

Vampires, were-creatures, succubi and even a few way-ward demons frequented the joint. It was the real reason Ellie believed so many people flocked to his doors. Even though humans could rarely tell what they shared their world with, there was something undeniably exotic about beings touched by demon venom.

She could feel Lambert surveying the packed club next to her. His sudden silence a sign of him taking in his new surroundings. There were masses of people on the dance floor, undulating and moving to the heavy beat of the music. To her practiced eyes she could make out several succubi, their stunningly beautiful bodies moving through the crowds of people like they were made of mist. Their exotically painted eyes scanning their potential partners. They weren’t hunting, there was a strict rule here, imposed by Dante himself, that humans were off the menu in his establishment. He had a reputation to uphold.

Ellie’s focus moved on from the hypnotic display and quickly found a familiar head of dark long hair, cut short at the sides belonging to a man stood behind the bar.

‘This way.’ She said, stepping into the fray with Lambert still attached to her. The crowd parted as they made their way across the dance floor. A few hybrid eyes flashed to her warily. The presence of a demon amongst them sending some of the more nervous hybrids to the opposite side of the room. She kept her eyes locked onto the man, he was talking to two women at the bar and mixing them a drink, his pale skin glowing in the black light of the club.

His dark eyes drifted up as they approached, an attractive smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. ‘Is this Dante?’ Lambert asked quietly, his voice only just audible over the music. The man’s smile grew and he shook his head.

‘No. I’m afraid not. Although I can point you in the right direction.’ He looked up at them both expectantly.

‘Nice to see you Moses.’ Moses chuckled. His voice, like Lambert’s, only just loud enough for Ellie to hear.

‘You too, we’ve been worried about you. It seems there’s trouble brewing amongst the slayers. Had a few close calls near the sanctuary recently.’ 

‘So I’ve heard.’ She said, looking around the club for any inquisitive eyes. No one was looking at them but she kept her voice low as she leant across the counter towards him. ‘I’m actually looking for Enoch, is he here?’ 

‘He’s with Dante.’ Much like everyone so far on this whirlwind reunion tour, his eyes flicked to Lambert. ‘I can tell them you’re here, but do you or your friend want a drink?’ Before she could politely decline, as she always did, Lambert spoke up.

‘What kind of ale do you have?’ Moses’ smile grew wider, exposing his pointed canines. 

‘Ale? No ale, but I do a superb old fashioned, or so I’m told. You look like an old-fashioned kind of man.’ Lambert gave him a sceptical look but Moses was already busying himself with the whiskey. Within a matter of seconds, he set down a tumbler of amber liquid and pushed it towards the witcher. Lambert took the glass gingerly and brought it to his face to sniff experimentally at it. Deciding it didn’t smell toxic he tossed the drink down in one gulp. Ellie held back a smirk as Moses’ eyes widened theatrically.

‘You’re supposed to savour it.’ He said, appalled. Lambert set the glass back down forcefully, causing the ice cubes to rattle loudly.

‘Where I’m from you don’t savour drinks given to you at a bar. You drink them.’ 

‘What a brilliantly simple philosophy, I shall have to adopt that myself.’ The smooth, accented voice didn’t come from the scandalized bartender stood across the counter. It came from behind them; close behind them. Lambert whipped round with a speed and practice that came with years of bad experiences. Ellie, already recognising the voice, turned a lot slower and with a wide grin as she took in the always fabulously dressed figure of Dante. 

His olive tone skin had a silky sheen to it in the dim light of the club. His high cheekbones underlined his almond shaped eyes drawing attention to their exuberant and curious nature. They were an interesting shade of bronze. Brighter and warmer than brown but with the same dark undertones. His black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. A style very much from a by gone era and yet Dante could pull it off flawlessly with his modern, well cut shirt and waistcoat. They were a deep maroon colour and made his slim stature seem lithe and athletic.

‘Eleanor my darling, we were so worried about you.’ He leant forward, his cupid bow lips pulling up into a dazzling, showman’s smile, revealing his own set of curved canines. He kissed her lightly on each cheek, a custom from his European background. ‘I trust my dear Moses has been looking after you?’ He asked, throwing a suggestive wink towards the bartender. His attention turned with predictable consistency to Lambert, his eyes widening and a salacious grin replacing his host smile. 

‘And who is this fine specimen you’ve brought me? You’re not one of mine are you? Too rugged, but those eyes, they are like gems.’ Ellie rolled her eyes and quickly inserted herself between the witcher and the vampire.

‘He’s…with me.’ She said firmly, just stopping herself from saying ‘he’s mine’ in time. 

‘ _You’re_ Dante.’ Lambert spoke over her head. The vampire smiled up at him wolfishly. ‘It seems my reputation precedes me, and it seems you may be spoken for. Such a pity. Eleanor, your partner is quite concerned about your whereabouts. Maybe you should go speak to him in the back. I’ll look after…’. He paused, staring at Lambert expectantly. The witcher raised an amused eyebrow, his full mouth twitching at one corner. 

‘Lambert.’ He stated. Unphased by Dante’s obvious flirting. Ellie tried not to grin at the interaction, despite his uncertainty in her fast and busy world, he still wasn’t a naïve school girl. It would be interesting to see how her promiscuous friend fared against this sarcastic monster hunter. 

‘Of course.’ She said to Dante then turning to Lambert she lowered her voice. ‘I’ll be back in a bit. Be careful with him, he can be very…persuasive.’ Lambert gave her a knowing smile.

‘Contrary to what my brothers think, I can give out my fair share of charm too. Be careful.’ He said, his tone becoming serious. Ellie gave him a nod and left him at the bar with the two vampires.

The back room was where the bar supplies were stored along with out of date furniture, it also housed a secret panic room in case the club was raided by people with…ill intent towards Dante’s patrons. Namely slayers and unfriendly gatekeepers. Ellie punched in the code for the door, hidden behind an impressive stone bust of Dante himself that he had claimed was too ostentatious even for him, and entered the amply sized room on the other side. In a crisis this could house the entire capacity of the main night club, it was one of the reasons Dante had leased such a huge space. The need for a safe place for people like him to hide was sadly a necessity in a world that despised and villainised them. That’s not to say there weren’t hybrids that harmed and killed humans, but they were rarer than one might think.

Stepping into the lavishly furnished panic room Ellie spotted a solitary figure currently sat at a table, his brow furrowed under a shock of red curls, the blue tinted horns just visible as they curved up through the mess of hair. He was staring at a laptop, papers scattered around him, the blue glare throwing heavy shadows across his handsome, rounded face. 

‘Enoch.’ She breathed in relief. The sight of her partner and friend releasing something heavy and hidden inside of her. The horned Shedu looked up from the laptop, his face breaking into a delighted smile as he rose. At his full height he almost brushed the low ceiling, his broad shoulders and thick set arms striking an imposing figure, but Ellie knew that he was actually a huge softy. 

‘El, thank Purgatory. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’ He took three big strides to reach her, his arms thrown wide. Before she could say anything in greeting he had scooped her up into a bear hug strong enough to crack bones. ‘I thought that Ifrit we were hunting had got you, but then I thought no, this is the _Tempest_ , the leader of the Gatekeepers. No back alley Ifrit would get the upper hand on you.’

‘Mf mfgay. Lef mef gof.’ A small voice came from under Enoch’s armpit. He dropped her with a chuckle and rubbed an embarrassed hand through his auburn hair.

‘Sorry boss, didn’t mean to rough you up like that. Just so happy to see you, is all.’ Ellie laughed at his awkwardness.

‘It’s fine. Good to see you too. It feels like it’s been months.’ 

‘Feels like I’ve been stuck _here_ for months, in reality it’s only been a few days.’ Ellie looked at him askance.

‘Stuck here?’ The Shedu gestured in frustration towards the table he had been sat at. 

‘I’ve been trying to get a gateway open for the last few days. Something is riling the hybrids here, and the slayers have suddenly started getting bolder with their hunts. I wanted to talk to Mort and the others to see if they’d noticed anything, but every time I try and get back to Purgatory I can’t.’ 

Dread snatched at Ellie like a greedy hand. This had something to do with O’Dimm. She had only been a few hours behind him but as she’d already discovered time moved differently between their worlds. What had he accomplished in the short head start he’d got on her? He had barred the way home that much was certain.

Her apprehension was palpable, and Enoch could sense it. They had known each other long enough that words weren’t necessary. His normally sunny expression faded, the burly, towering Shedu suddenly looking far more intimidating. 

‘What do you need me to do boss?’ He said. She could just see his tail swishing in agitation from behind his tree trunk legs.

‘We have to find a way to contact Mortimer.’ She said. Enoch nodded solemnly. 

‘Where did you go then? I assume you weren’t in London.’

‘No. I fell through a gateway.’ He gave her a sharp look.

‘Fell? Didn’t you make it?’ Ellie shook her head.

‘It’s a long story and I’m not the only one that needs to tell it.’ His eyebrows rose at the remark.

‘Oh? Bring someone back did you?’ He asked suggestively. Ellie swung a punch at his meaty bicep. It was like hitting a wall, Enoch simply barked out a laugh.

‘He’s in the club with Dante.’ 

The Shedu snorted. ‘ _He? Dante?_ We’d better save him.’ Ellie was already halfway out of the door.

‘My thoughts exactly come on.’

It took her several minutes to find Lambert. The spot where she had left him was absent, save for a number of new patrons and Moses, casually serving drinks behind the bar. Dante was also noticeably missing. With narrowed eyes she scanned the dancing crowd. The numbers had increased in the short time she had been talking to Enoch and now it was hard to make anyone out in the packed club. 

‘What does he smell like?’ Enoch asked. 

‘Spice.’ She answered reflexively. His smell was as familiar as her own face in the mirror nowadays. With her partner’s prompt she took a long draw of air and try to locate that oh so comforting smell. She found it mixed in with a cacophony of other scents, along with an aromatic, cloying smell that was common for succubi. Her eyes followed her nose and there he was, dancing of all things, in the middle of the club.

Ellie struggled to find any words. Her eyes were transfixed on Lambert. The grumpy, unsociable witcher was smiling as he danced with a beautiful woman – who was the obvious source of the other smell. The pair of them were laughing and she was encouraging Lambert, who surprisingly, was dancing exceptionally well to the rhythmic, bass music. With his modern clothes he blended in well with the crowd, only his glowing eyes which flashed occasionally as they caught the light were any give away to his alien nature. 

The succubus turned away and began dancing with someone else. Ellie half expected Lambert to stop now that his dancing partner had lost interest but then she noticed the equally attractive man next to him. He had the same ethereal beauty as the woman, marking him as an incubus, the male equivalent. He was smiling at Lambert as the pair continued to dance. Ellie’s brief moment of shock was met with an almost instantaneous spark of memory.

_‘I’ve only met one cat I like, and he’s a very rare specimen.’_

_‘Maybe you’ll tell me about him sometime.’_

‘Quite the dancer isn’t he.’ Dante’s smooth voice interrupted her thoughts. 

‘Yes.’ She replied haltingly, not taking her eyes of the witcher and the incubus. ‘He is.’ 

A slim hand came to rest on her shoulder and she saw Dante’s aquiline profile come into view in her periphery. ‘Don’t fret my dear, it’s only a bit of fun.’ 

‘I know.’ She said, but it wasn’t jealously she felt as she watched Lambert with the other man, it was relief. Relief that maybe he could find happiness on the other side of them, because this couldn’t last, even now. He looked up from the man’s smiling face and found her gazing at them. The witcher immediately stepped back, a look of guilt on his face, but Ellie smiled and waved coyly at him.

‘We need to get back to the sanctuary.’ She said to the Shedu and vampire stood beside her, but before she could gesture for Lambert to come over a loud crash echoed out through the club, followed by shouting and cursing. The music cut out abruptly as a group of men burst through the door, one of the bouncers, half conscious, staggering before them bloodied and bruised. They surveyed the shocked and silent patrons before one of them brandished a shotgun and pointed it at the crowd.

‘Nobody move! Any humans are free to go, the rest of you will be slaughtered like the animals you are!

There was a beat more of silence, then the room erupted into blood curdling screams and clambering bodies. Ellie locked eyes with Lambert who was in the middle of the panicking crowd, he had a confused look on his face as the incubus he had been dancing with was nearly trampled underfoot. 

The slayer who had spoken let the chaos unfold in front of him, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. As the first few hybrids broke away from the mass of pressing bodies and ran for the back room, he levelled his shotgun and fired straight at their fleeing backs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, thank you so much for your kind words. It's lovely to hear you're still with me on this journey. I can't tell you how much your words and thoughts mean to me, they really do keep a girl going. I always look forward to reading them. Until next week then. :)


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

The room had descended into anarchy. Lambert was being jostled from all sides as people tried to escape the shouting men who had entered moments ago. He searched for Ellie, who had been stood watching him from a raised section of the floor but now he could see nothing but pressing bodies. The man he had been dancing with had vanished, he scanned the crowd but couldn’t see him either. Then something grabbed at his ankle and he looked down to see a pair of desperate blue eyes.

He had followed Dante down to the dancefloor somewhat reluctantly, the flashy vampire staring at him like he was a starving peasant and Lambert was a lame doe. The music was unfamiliar; fast paced and very loud, there were no musicians or bards in sight but the melody seemed to be coming from all around them. He had stood stiff and unyielding, watching the people move around him in time to the strange music. It wasn’t until the unnervingly beautiful couple had approached him that he had begun to feel a little more at ease.

The woman was stunning, that much was certain, but she didn’t have the honest blue eyes and simple attractive face of Ellie. The man on the other hand bore a striking resemblance to the only other person he had ever opened up to, Aiden. He had the same high cheekbones and twinkling eyes, although his were sky blue not golden and cat like. He swayed towards Lambert with the same tall, lean structure and cocky confidence, giving him a cheeky grin. 

Now he was looking down at him, crushed beneath the press of bodies and an instant, primal rage erupted inside the witcher. Grabbing the fallen man by the arm he shoved aside the people keeping him down and heaved him to his feet. As he touched the bare skin on the man’s arm he felt a pulling sensation on his gut, and his medallion which was tucked under the tight tunic he was wearing, gave an ominous shiver. The blue eyes he was now looking into glowed subtly and the panicked man gave him a shaky smile.

‘Thanks.’ He breathed, his brown hair dishevelled. Before they could get their bearings, there was a loud boom and several blood curdling screams erupted from the back of the room. Looking up sharply, Lambert saw the man that had caused the mass panic was stood, a thick, stick like object clutched in his hands. The end of it was smoking and the witcher vaguely remembered a similar, smaller object that also smoked and made a loud booming sound when used. He had seen it bring down a nightmarish boar monster in Ellie’s memories.

‘I said nobody move!’ The man roared over their heads. The crowd convulsed pushing Lambert and the other man he had rescued towards the front. Straining around he tried to find Ellie, unsure whether she was still nearby. All he could make out was the panicked faces of the people around him, he let out a frustrated growl. This was why he hated crowds. The man with the stick raised it again, this time scanning the sea of people in front of him, he lowered it indiscriminately into the seething mass and smiled grimly. The man that Lambert had rescued turned wild, panicked eyes towards him.

‘We’re going to die here.’ He said, his voice filled with horror. Lambert looked around for a way out, a way to escape the pressing cage of bodies, but before he could there was a high-pitched whistle and then the unmistakable thud of an impact. The stick wielder let out a shout of alarm and pain. His arms were now encased in what looked suspiciously like ice. It crept up his limbs until even the stick he was holding was sealed inside. He was looking down at his arms, now frozen in place, his face a mask of angry outrage. His eyes flashed up to find the culprit just as a loud, cheery voice rang out with such confidence that it caused the panicking crowd to fall silent.

‘You’ve either got to be incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, to walk in here and threaten us like that.’

As one, the crowd turned towards the voice. Even Lambert found himself straining to see who had spoken. If it wasn’t for the rough edged, Skelige sounding accent he would have assumed it was Dante, it had that same charisma about it. From the back of room he saw movement as the crowd began to part, then striding through the corridor they had created came a hulking mass of a man sporting a mop of curly red hair and two distinctive blue horns curving out from his forehead.

He was wearing a loose-fitting white shirt and open waistcoat, the sleeves rolled up to expose his muscle-bound arms. In one hand he held a heavy looking iron hammer, similar to one a blacksmith or armourer might use, and behind him a long russet coloured ox tail tipped with matching red hair flicked in time with his steps.

‘Demon.’ The frozen man standing above him breathed. Unconcealed hatred in his voice. 

The red headed demon smiled. ‘Not just a demon’. He said, holding up his free hand, showing a branded mark on his wrist. An exact copy of Ellie’s. ‘And not just one, but two.’ He indicated behind him with his hammer, pointing it towards a familiar set of blue eyes. They were a dark shade of navy that Lambert hadn’t see in a long time. Her mouth set in a tight line, her brow furrowed and lowered over her eyes to create harsh shadows on her face which gave her a very ominous appearance.

‘So maybe you should rethink your plan and leave these people alone, or you can stay and deal with me.’ The red-haired demon flexed his arms, cracking his neck from side to side. The frozen man sneered, although his demeanour had become a bit more uncertain. Glancing over his shoulder at one of his comrades, he gestured for them to come forward. An equally muscle-bound individual wearing all black like his peers lumbered over to him and raised a metal bar, smashing the ice covering his leader’s arms. It shattered, sending crystal shards flying over the heads of the gathered crowd. A few people screamed and ducked out of the way. The man nodded to his rescuer and rubbed his now freed limbs, the sneer growing.

‘We don’t except threats from demons, and things have changed around here. It’s high time this place was shut down and the scum that dwell here eradicated.’ He flicked his gaze over the watching faces. ‘Now I’ll say it again. Any humans amongst you are free to go. Just approach us slowly and we’ll assess you, the rest stay put until we’re ready to deal with you.’

The people around Lambert shifted uneasily, a few of them detaching and cautiously making their way up off the dance floor towards the waiting men. He clenched his fists. These slayers, because that’s what they must be, clearly had a way to distinguish man from monster, much like he did, but he doubted whether they had seen the likes of him before, and they certainly knew Ellie. He wasn’t leaving here without her regardless. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he tried to control his rage. Killing harmful monsters was one thing, but indiscriminately slaughtering creatures who had been doing no harm was similar to how the witch hunters of Novigrad operated. It made him sick that Ellie had even _compared_ him to these whoresons.

‘That’s quite enough of that.’ Dante’s smooth voice carried across the room. The vampire was stood next to Ellie with the bartender, Moses, flanking her other side. ‘You’ll leave my establishment in peace this instant. Or they’ll be hell to pay.’ 

The leader raised his shooting stick again, this time aiming it straight at Dante. ‘You’ll be the first to go, you blood sucking arsehole!’ Before anyone could utter another word, he fired the weapon straight at the group gathered around Blue eyes. Lambert let out a hiss and strained to see if she had been caught in the blast, but as quick as he could blink Dante and his partner Moses had vanished, leaving Ellie stood defiantly alone. The wall behind her exploded as whatever the stick expelled embedded itself into the stone. There was a moment of silence, then to Lambert’s dismay he saw a pinprick of red begin to blossom on Ellie’s pale blue vest. The stain grew and grew, blossoming like a macabre rose across her abdomen. All the while she stood as still as if she were carved from stone, her face still set in that fearsome glare, her arms tensed and hands clenched into fists.

‘So be it.’ Dante said from another side of the room. He must have evaded the shot and moved there faster than Lambert could follow, which was impressive. His eyes were focused on the slayers, and his lips curled back into a terrible snarl, his canines flashing wetly in the dim light of the club. 

‘Everyone! Get to the back, now!’ Moses shouted from the opposite side, ushering the crowd around Lambert away from the slayers. This broke the temporary spell they had been under, causing them to erupt into screams and cries once more. This time they surged towards the back of the club, although Lambert had no idea where they all planned to go. Trying to fight against the flow again, he felt a hand tugging at his sleeve. It was the man that he had rescued. 

‘Come on, there’s a safe place. We have to go.’ He cajoled, attempting to pull the witcher along. There was the sound of an angry growl, rumbling over the cacophony of screams and a streak of burgundy zipped past in his periphery. Another loud boom echoed behind them and he was almost certain the leader was firing his weapon at their retreating backs. They were almost level with Ellie now, the steps up to reach the back right next to where she was stood. She was still motionless, surveying the fleeing crowd and watching the beginnings of the fight between the slayers and the monsters unfolding in front of her. Lambert’s attention however was on the dark red stain, that had now mercifully slowed but still made his stomach twist in apprehension. 

He pulled his arm away from the man and shook his head, even as he tried to reach out to grab him again. ‘Go, I need to help here.’

‘Help?’ The blue-eyed man said, his face morphing into confusion. ‘What can you do? The gatekeepers are here. We’ll be useless.’ 

Lambert gave him a wry smile and planted his feet. The man continued to be swept away by the crowd. ‘I’m hard to kill.’ He stated before turning to find Ellie. With sharpened elbows and years of practice wrestling his brothers, he managed to wade through the stream of panicked people towards her. She didn’t seem to notice his approach, or at least she didn’t move, not even when Lambert broke through the press of bodies and half stumbled, half jogged to her side.

‘Are you hurt?’ He gasped. Her head barely twitched as she replied in a clipped voice.

‘Nothing worth noting.’ His apprehension quelled, his attention turned towards the dance floor and the action unfolding on it. In stark contrast with the sinuous movements and joyous dancing that had been there moments before, was a scene of feral anger and desperate fighting between the two sides. Joining Dante were a number of other vampires and the bullish red-haired demon which he could only assume was Ellie’s partner.

As he watched, the demon was set upon by three of the slayers. One had another shooting stick, this one smaller. Another had a wickedly curved knife that flashed through the air with lightning quick speed, and the last had no weapon, only his fists which were the size of boulders. If it had been Lambert in the middle of it he doubted whether he would have got out of it completely unscathed. Oh, he’d win, but he’d collect a few bruises and maybe a split lip along the way. The demon however grinned in giddy anticipation as they surrounded him, twirling his hammer experimentally in his hand. 

They attacked as one. Lambert would give them that, they were fighting to win; not giving him a chance to pick them off individually. That’s what he would’ve thought if the leering demon hadn’t launched into them with his hammer. Despite his size he moved like a cat; flexing and bending to strike at their shins, their elbows, bringing them all to their knees in a matter of seconds, then with a flourish striking his hammer on the floor between where a sparkling sheet of ice exploded from the end locking them in place.

Lambert gave a low whistle. ‘Well, colour me impressed.’ He saw Ellie glance at him out of the corner of his eye.

‘Enoch’s a quick learner.’ She said simply. It was then he recognised the style of the big demon’s fighting. It was the same as Blue eyes. Low and quick. Using his enemy’s momentum against them. It was almost comical in such a beefy fighter. ‘You should go in the back room.’ 

Lambert felt a stab of indignation at her suggestion. ‘I’m not a shrinking damsel, I can look after myself.’ 

She gave him a reproachful look. ‘Fine, but be careful… _please._ ’ Her plea was said in a softer, more concerned tone and Lambert felt his annoyance lessen. There was a high-pitched shriek as one of the vampires leapt at a slayer, knocking him down. Behind them the crowd were slowly filtering into the back room, two more vampires guiding them through. Most of the slayers were preoccupied with the brawl, but a few were starting to make progress towards the other side of the club. 

The heavy-set demon and Dante were now engaged in a battle between the leader and serval other slayers. They seemed to be multiplying. One thing was obvious, this wasn’t a last-minute raid, this had been planned. The non-humans were doing well, but the sheer numbers of the other side were clearly starting to overwhelm them. Suddenly the lights began to flicker and dim, turning the whole scene into a strangely hypnotic ballet. Lambert glanced up at the ceiling and watched as the ever-burning candles struggled to stay lit.

‘What’s wrong with-‘ He began but Ellie was no longer stood beside him. She was crouched, a faint blue glow seeping up from the floor and into her legs. The air around them became hot and metallic, a familiar taste of ozone burning on his tongue.

‘Don’t do anything stupid.’ She said before the lights went out briefly with a buzzing pop and an iridescent streak of blue lightning flashed across the room towards the fight. As the lights stuttered back to life Lambert saw the slayers had been sent into chaos. Where before they had been surrounding Dante and Enoch, now they were spread across the floor, some on their backs, some struggling to their feet clutching their heads. In the centre of this ring of confusion stood Ellie, sparks of blue crackling over her arms and legs, dissipating in the air around her. 

Before the shell-shocked slayers could regain their advantage she and Enoch launched themselves at the men. The two of them flowed together seamlessly, it was like watching a dance. A dance that involved taking out the slayers one by one. Neither of the demons did any mortal damage to any of the men, instead knocking them out much like Blue eyes had with those mercenaries in the woods back home.

The same could not be said for Dante and his crew. They may not resemble any vampires that the witcher knew, but the speed and ferocity with which they attacked was eerily similar. He watched as Dante himself flew towards a slayer, his body a blur, and fall upon the man with a feral growl. He half expected the man to be a bloodied corpse by the way he screamed as Dante dealt with him, however he was still very much alive when the vampire leapt off him. The man sat up and clutched at his neck, blood seeped from between his fingers, and a look of horror was plastered on his face. Lambert slowly raised an eyebrow and looked back towards Ellie and her partner. She didn’t seem to notice her friend’s interesting approach to dealing with these humans, or she didn’t care. He made a note to ask her later once this was over.

As he looked on, feeling out of his depth and as useless as if he were a trainee witcher staring at a rabid fiend, a flurry of motion caught his attention to his right. Two slayers had managed to slip by their supernatural assailants and were sprinting to the back of the club. Both of them had weapons, a shooting stick and a long dagger, and expression twisted with hatred and anger. Lambert side stepped neatly in front of them as they barrelled up the short flight of steps. They both jolted to an abrupt halt, their angry faces morphing into one of surprise at the unexpected obstacle.

‘I think that’s far enough, don’t you?’ Lambert drawled, folding his arms menacingly. The two men looked the witcher up and down, most likely noting his lack of weapon, then both of them smiled nastily.

‘If you know what’s good for you, you’ll move out of our way. We’re only after the freaks.’ The one with the knife said. His friend nudged him, his eyes growing wide.

‘Look at his eyes.’ Their stance changed. They both brandished their weapons, their lips curling up into a sneer of disgust.

‘Looks like you _are_ a freak after all.’ The one with the knife said. Lambert smirked at them, he’d heard a lot of unfamiliar words and see a lot of things that didn’t make any sense, but _this_ he could understand. 

‘It’s been a while since I beat up a pair of whoresons like you. I think I’m going to enjoy this.’ He said, cracking his knuckles as the men charged at him. He easily avoided the man with the knife, the blade swinging over his head as he ducked out of the way. The slayer staggered past him with a look of surprise, but quickly regained his footing and came back at him, slashing wildly. Lambert sorely missed his steel sword, he would’ve made quick work of the amateur by now with it. Sadly, in his weapon less state, it was safer to dodge and wait for an opening than to mount his own attack. 

He was so preoccupied with the knife wielding idiot that he nearly forgot about his other assailant. It was only when he caught a shift in movement out of the corner of his eye, that he saw the man with the shooting stick had flanked him and was stood a few feet away. Of course, the stick was a ranged weapon, he was getting distance to fire at the witcher. Mentally kicking himself for his faux pas, Lambert wheeled away from his slashing friend and attempted to put him between himself and the shooting stick. 

It gave him enough time to gather his thoughts and assess the man’s loose grip on his weapon. Before the slayer could resume his frenzied attack, Lambert dashed towards him, crowding the man. His initial shock at the sudden offensive manoeuvre loosened his grip even more on the knife, allowing Lambert to knock his wrist deftly with his elbow, popping the blade cleanly from his hand. Snatching it easily out of the air, Lambert felt a swell of satisfaction as the whoreson gave him a fearful look. 

With the weight of a weapon in his hand, the witcher felt the tables swiftly turn. Widening his stance, he tossed the knife to his sword hand and twirled it nimbly. It wasn’t as comforting as his hefty longsword, but it was better than nothing. He leapt at the now unarmed man who tried to sidestep away from him. However, his mutations mercifully hadn’t been cancelled out in this world, and he easily blocked the slayer’s escape, holding the knife up to his trembling face. 

There was a beat where Lambert could happily have sliced his throat open from ear to ear. The old Lambert wouldn’t have hesitated, delighting in disposing of another low life. However, something inside him whispered that killing a man without cause was no better than what they were doing. In a momentary decision, he flipped the knife so he was brandishing the handle rather than the blade, and brought it cracking down on the unarmed man’s temple. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious, his friend swearing loudly and levelling his weapon at Lambert. With a tired sigh, the witcher raised the hand still holding the knife by the blade, and flicked his wrist at the other slayer. The knife sailed through the air and struck the man’s arm, causing him to flinch with a cry of pain and drop the shooting stick with a clatter. In three quick strides the witcher was on him, curling his hand into a tight fist and punching the man squarely in the temple. He collapsed to the floor like his friend, motionless, and Lambert cautiously picked up his discarded weapon. 

The stick was cold and made of dark metal. It was heavier than he had expected, weighing it experimentally as he held it on his palm. It was a mechanical devise, clearly made up of different interconnecting parts, and there was an obvious handle that fitted his hand snugly. His index finger naturally wanted to curl around a jutting piece of metal that when he tested it carefully, he could feel gave slightly. This must be how the weapon fired. Lifting it up to eye level, Lambert looked down the stick, his mind already trying to figure out how this marvellous invention worked. 

Before he could get too deep into his own thoughts, a shout from the back of the club startled him. ‘Hey! Thanks for dealing with those slayers!’ 

He turned, automatically stowing the weapon away in his leather tunic; he had discovered earlier that it had a convenient secret pocket in the lining. The shouts had come from the two vampires who had been ushering the crowd into the back room. The mass of people was miraculously gone with only the two of them guarding the closed door now.

‘You’re welcome.’ He replied. The vampires gave him a nod, their eyes then travelling over his head to the action behind. Before he could follow their gaze, he felt a subtle breeze next to him, then a small hand on his arm.

‘Looks like you got involved anyway.’ Ellie said. He half expected her to be annoyed but there was a smile on her face and a glimmer of amusement in her now sapphire blue eyes. Turning in a full circle Lambert saw the room had now settled down, the fighting practically over. The slayers Ellie and Enoch had knocked out were being propped up against the wall. The others that Dante and his troupe had bitten were left writhing from their wounds. Lambert was about to ask Ellie if she was okay with her supposed ‘good guy’ friend biting all these humans when he noticed Moses, the quiet bartender, moving from slayer to slayer administering something to their necks, then waving his hand and laying them prone on the ground.

Ellie saw him looking in confusion at the disjointed scene. ‘Dante likes to give them a scare. Make them think they’re one of them now. He never follows through though. Moses extracts the venom before it can take and then wipes their memory.’

‘Why not just knock them out like you?’ Lambert asked, puzzled.

She gave a small shrug. ‘Dante likes his theatrics. Besides, his history with the slayers is a lot rougher than ours. I think it only fair to give him some semblance of revenge when he can get it.’ 

With all the slayers dealt with, the victorious party gathered around Ellie and Lambert. Dante was tucking a wayward strand of hair that had escaped his ponytail, but apart from that he was still impressively immaculate. He gave Lambert a roguish wink as he approached. The witcher quickly averted his gaze and found himself looking at the hulking demon called Enoch. 

‘So, is this the one you brought back boss? Looks interesting, not your usual type-Hughn!’ Ellie elbowed the massive demon hard in the ribs, causing him to bend over comical in pain. 

‘Shut your mouth Enoch.’ She hissed, tossing Lambert a guilty look as he raised an eyebrow quizzically at her. 

‘Well done friends. Is everyone safe and accounted for?’ Dante interrupted the awkward moment. He had taken on a more powerful stance, his posture and voice now exuding the aura of a leader. A marked difference to the smooth, debonair style Lambert had encountered earlier.

‘Everyone made it to the safe room. Only minor injuries.’ One of the vampires that had been helping people through the door replied. Dante nodded, tugging on his waistcoat to straighten it.

‘Good. We’ll have to wipe the memories of the humans. Not my usual practice but they saw far too much tonight, and I’d rather not garner a reputation for shootouts in my establishment.’ His gaze turned to Ellie. ‘My thanks dear. It would have been a different story without the two of you. As always I am grateful for your alliance. And you…’. He turned to Lambert, looking him up and down appreciatively.

‘If I had known you were such an accomplished fighter I might have kept you to myself.’ The seriousness in his tone waned, a flirtatious edge to his words.

‘Definitely taken, sorry.’ Lambert replied smoothly. He saw Ellie baulk at his words, a slight tinge of pink entering her cheeks. 

‘Of course you are.’ Dante said, rolling his eyes. ‘We still need to address what happened here tonight.’ He continued, smoothly changing the subject. Lambert reached down and found Ellie’s hand to squeeze it, she squeezed back. ‘That was the most brazen raid we’ve ever experienced, and I want to know why. I want to know how they got passed Carl and Owen. I want to know why our scouts missed them. I want to know where they got the _balls_ to pull off a stunt like that. Make no mistake my children, I am _angry_.’ 

The gathered vampires watched him silently, a collective shame hanging over all of them. This was serious. ‘Firstly, we will deal with the ones in the safe room, separate them and wipe the memories of any who aren’t like us. Secondly, we’ll take our uninvited guests somewhere less busy. Thomas, Able, you know a good place.’

‘Yes.’ One of the vampires replied shortly.

‘Now go, go. I need to talk to our demon friends.’ The gathering dispersed, all to their given tasks, leaving only Dante, Moses, Ellie and Enoch with him. Dante lowered his voice and fixed Ellie with a hard stare.

‘My dear, something is not right. This goes against everything the slayers have done before. Attacking in large groups like that isn’t their style. Something is making them bold and I want to know what it is.’ 

Ellie ran a hand through her hair. ‘I might have an idea, but I can’t be certain.’

‘Is this to do with your disappearing?’ Enoch asked. She glanced at Lambert.

‘Yes, maybe…I don’t know.’ 

Dante waved a hand in the air. ‘Speak plainly. My people were just attacked, I have no time for riddle _sss_.’ He emphasised the end of the word, letting it out between clenched teeth with a hiss.

‘Lambert here wasn’t the only person to come back with me. I let out another, a demon…a higher demon.’ This time both Dante and Moses hissed.

‘You think this one is the reason for the imbalance?’ Moses asked. Ellie’s mouth twisted into a sour grimace.

‘I’m almost certain he is.’

‘We need to catch him then. Send him back.’ Enoch said, slapping the palm of his large hand with his hammer. 

‘It’s not that simple.’ Ellie said.

‘Things rarely are.’ Dante intoned bitterly. Lambert had to agree with the guy there. 

‘I came to find you, because I need to find out what’s going on in Purgatory.’ Ellie said to the other demon. He blinked down at her.

‘I told you, I can’t get back there.’ 

‘I know, but you might be able to find out if anyone has recently crossed over. If I look he might see me, he knows who I am.’ Enoch nodded slowly.

‘I could try and get a message to Hester, see if he’s seen anything.’ She sighed loudly in response.

‘Fine.’ She turned her attention back to the vampires. ‘I’ll stop whatever is going on, I _promise._ ’ 

Dante gave her a level stare, the silence stretched between them for an uncomfortably long time, then finally he nodded and raised his left arm, his hand clenched in a fist, his wrist exposed.

‘May the wind guide your feet Tempest.’ He said solemnly. Then with a subtle gesture of his hand, he and Moses walked away in tandem, leaving just the three of them. Ellie seemed to sag as she let out another loud sigh. 

‘Shit escalated quickly.’ Enoch grumbled, and Lambert found he reminded him of Eskel quite a bit.

‘You can say that again.’ She said, rolling her shoulders back and straightening up. ‘Right. Looks like we got a promise to keep.’ Then without a backward glance she strode off towards the exit to the club. Enoch let her get a little ahead, hanging back with the witcher. The demon eyed him up, then glanced down at the two unconscious slayers still at their feet.

‘Not bad work. Saw you take these guys out. I can see why she likes you.’ He leant towards Lambert, a conspiratorial look in his eyes. ‘ _I_ promise not to tell El about the gun you’ve got stashed in your pocket.’ 

He gave him a wink, then followed his partner. Lambert gripped the subtle bulge by his chest, where the ‘gun’ was hidden. Guilt washed over him in a wave. He should probably tell Blue eyes himself about it, but something about what he had just witnessed and the serious conversation afterwards made him think he was going to need a weapon for what they were about to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay getting this one out. I've had a busy week and I didn't want to give you a half finished chapter last week. I do hope it is worth the long wait for this cliff hanger, and thank you once again for your patience. I'm going to do my best to keep this weekly but I can't always guarantee it, my personal life has become a bit more turbulent as of late. My continued determination to not let you guys down however drives me on, and I hope I will see you all in the next instalment! :)


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

The evening had been more eventful than Ellie had hoped. She had only been back in London for the better part of five hours and already she was neck deep in problems. While she had been stuck in Lambert’s world, things had seemed so much easier. There had been no responsibility, no one looking to her for answers, the most she had to worry about was whether or not people would trust her for being who she was. It had been a nice break from reality, but now she was back in the middle of it with a bump.

Lambert walked quietly beside her, no longer trailing, half dazed like a lost puppy. With every passing second here she could see him becoming more accustomed to the bright lights, loud noises and monstrous amounts of people. His ability to adapt and survive astounded her even now. 

After leaving Inferno, Enoch had split off from them to find Hester. It was getting close to 3am by that time and even though she knew Lambert didn’t need that much sleep, she was sure he needed a moment to come to terms with everything that had happened. Telling her partner to rendezvous at the sanctuary she had led Lambert away from the club and into a much quieter night time London.

Now they were strolling along the banks of the Thames, like an ordinary couple on a date. The only oddity in this scene was the unsightly dark red stain on her new vest. A peppering of pea sized holes were also torn in the fabric. She zipped up her hoodie to cover the alarming mark, so no one driving by would decided to call an ambulance. It had been a long time since she had been shot and the effect still shocked her. Despite it not having any fatal consequences it always left her feeling shaken and for some reason, took longer to heal than most wounds. That was why she had taken so long to assist her friends in their fight in the club. The physical exertion taken to reform after the shotgun had blasted half her abdomen away, had taken a painful amount of time. 

There was no one else walking the streets around them, and only a few cars – mainly taxis – passing by. The unusual peace of the city should’ve unnerved her, instead Ellie found herself thinking of Kaer Morhen and she felt a sad twinge of longing for its unique remoteness. She hadn’t been leading them anywhere in particular, simply letting her feet guide her on a random path, enjoying the night air although it was noticeably marred by exhaust fumes. It had never really bothered her until she had spent all that time in perfectly clear mountain air, now there was a pungent edge to atmosphere that forced her nose to wrinkle.

‘This place is huge.’ Lambert broke the quiet, his voice soft and distant. 

‘Yeah.’ She replied tentatively. ‘I suppose it is.’ An unusually awkward silence fell between them. Over the time she had known him, Lambert had always exuded an angry tension, even when he wasn’t speaking. It was what gave him his overbearing arrogant quality that most found hard to be around. Now though, he seemed nervous, unsure what to say next. It made Ellie pause and studying him closely in the vibrant orange light.

‘You said Novigrad was a big place though.’ The witcher’s brow furrowed and he looked like he was about to shoot her some hard remark. Instead he glanced up towards the large ferris wheel on the other side of the river, lit up in shades of purple, blue and white. 

‘It’s big, but this is…well, it’s another world.’ Ellie snorted and looked over at the London eye. A memory of an impossible fortress balanced on the side of a monumental cliff came to mind.

‘When I saw Kaer Morhen for the first time, it was truly like I had stepped into a fantasy. I had never seen anything like it.’ She leant on the low stone wall next to the path they were on, looking out over the Thames. 

‘This is a fantasy.’ Lambert said after a weighty pause. ‘Lights that don’t burn out, buildings as tall as mountains, carts that move themselves. How can I not be fucking dreaming? Now I know why you’re so weird Blue eyes.’ She felt his arm brush against hers as he leant next to her.

‘You’re the one that’s weird witcher.’ She said, a smirk in her voice. The awkwardness dissipated a little as they stood there, the weight of his arm pressing reassuringly against hers. The lights of the wheel casting a kaleidoscope of colour onto the dark waters of the river. 

‘What do you think he’s doing? O’Dimm?’ Lambert’s tone had become ominous, and as she looked over at him Ellie saw an intense glint in his eyes. 

‘I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s affecting things here. I need to find a way to talk to Mortimer, he might know more.’ 

‘Who’s Hester?’ She sighed and shuffled next to Lambert.

‘Someone I usually try to avoid. He’s a demon who did some bad things but…we came to a mutual understanding so I let him stay here. If anyone will know what’s going on in Purgatory right now, he will. He helps demons get out through back doors and illegal routes, if anyone can bypass the block he will.’

‘Aren’t you meant to stop demons escaping and causing havoc in this world?’ She gave him a sharp look.

‘And you never made a truce with someone you were meant to be hunting, a certain demon you were paid to kill maybe?’ 

Lambert narrowed his eyes. ‘Yes, but you turned out to be good. Can you trust this _Hester?_ Last thing you need is him running off to O’Dimm and fucking snitching.’ 

‘I have thought of that.’ Ellie said defensively. ‘Don’t have many other options unfortunately. Unless Mortimer just pops into existence in the middle of London.’ 

‘Not likely?’ 

‘He’s not left Purgatory for millennia, and I doubt Gaunter is going to let his gaoler get away easily.’ 

Lambert nodded, resigned. ‘Fair enough.’ The silence fell again, this time there was a tense note to it; the conversation having rippled the calm water between them. They stayed like that for a while, Ellie lost in her thoughts, anxious about the imbalance her decisions had inevitably caused. Finally, Lambert turned to face her, leaning casually against the wall. His slicked hair and dark attire making him look even more roguish than usual.

‘We planning on staying out here all night, ‘cos I could use some food Blue eyes. I know that’s not high on your list of priorities.’ 

‘Sorry. Yes, we can get food.’ She glanced over the river at the round glowing face of Big Ben, the clock visible even from this distance. It proclaimed the time was now 4am. She may not need to eat but she definitely knew of some good places that were open all hours in the city. ‘Do you have a preference?’

Lambert gave her an odd look. ‘I doubt ale and stew are going to be an option here.’

‘You’d be surprised, but I have something else in mind.’ She said with a smile, offering her hand to him. He took it and awkwardly threaded his fingers through hers. As she set off in the direction of the Westend she realised with a pang that this was the first time they had done this. Walked along, hand in hand, like a normal couple. She could feel the steady pulse of his heart beating against her wrist. 

They left the river behind them and disappeared into the winding streets. A few more cars drove past and she felt the grip on her hand tighten. She smirked up at the witcher.

‘It’s ok, they won’t hurt you. As long as you stay on the pavement.’ Lambert glared back.

‘You weren’t nearly crushed by one of those things.’ 

‘You’ve faced worst.’ Ellie snorted. He narrowed his eyes and contemplated an approaching van. 

‘Maybe.’ He finally conceded. ‘At least they don’t fly.’ Covering her mouth with her free hand, Ellie stifled a chuckle. 

‘What’s so fucking funny?’ Lambert snapped. 

‘We have flying ones too.’ She said. Immediately his head flew back to stare at the seamless black above them. One look at his horrified expression sent Ellie into a fit of hysteria. She laughed so hard she could feel the tears pooling at the corner of her eyes.

‘Glad to see you’re having a good time.’ He said sourly. She squeezed his hand as her laughter died away.

‘You’re doing really well you know.’ She said, her voice soft.

‘Hmph.’ Lambert grunted in response, but she saw the corner of his mouth twitch up. The streets were still quiet, but as they got closer to Piccadilly Circus there were a few more people dotted around. A lot of them were part goers, drifting from one club to the next, staggering slightly and talking loudly with their friends. There were a few homeless people crouched in doorways, bundled up in quilts. Ellie scanned them, recognising some of the faces. Demons and hybrids that were struggling to adapt to human life. One ifrit wrapped in a grubby overcoat glanced up as they past, baring his teeth in a threatening snarl. Ellie just met his stare, a stony expression on her face. She had enough to worry about right now without running after rogue demons. It was likely one of Hester’s customers, a runaway from Purgatory.

Taking a side street branching she led Lambert towards a brightly lit up shop front. A neon sign above the door sporting a vibrant blue fish. The smell of batter and oil wafted towards them down the street, and there was a small knot of people stood outside holding paper bags. 

‘So, what are we eating Blue eyes?’ Lambert asked. 

‘Do you like fish?’ The witcher’s face scrunched up, his lip curling in disgust. She snorted again, pulling him behind her a little quicker. ‘You’ll like this one, promise.’ 

Fish and chips had been one of Ellie’s favourite things when she was a child. The salty crunch of the chips, golden and nestled in their paper. The flaky white fish surrounded in crisp batter and tangy tartare sauce on the side. Now that she didn’t need to eat she only really ate sweet food when she got the chance, but every now and then she missed the steamy smell of unwrapping a freshly cooked bag of chips. 

‘I can’t smell fish.’ Lambert said as they neared the takeaway. ‘I can only smell hot oil and potato.’ 

‘Good, isn’t it.’ Ellie said, practically skipping. 

‘If you say so.’ He muttered. She skirted around the party goers stood in the doorway and entered the hot, brightly lit shop. A portly woman was behind the stainless-steel counter and gave them a tired smile as they entered.

‘What can I get you?’ She asked. 

‘One cod and two chips please.’ Ellie said. The woman nodded and turned her attention to the fryer.

‘Right you are. Won’t be long dears.’ She said, taking a strip of cod dipped in the raw yellow batter and putting it in the oil. Ellie looked over at Lambert who was stood awkwardly in the doorway still. Under the sterile lights and surrounded by grease stained tiles he looked out of place and alien, his modern clothes doing nothing to disguise his obvious otherness. His amber eyes flashed to her, and he gave her a quizzical look.

‘You better not be trying to poison me Blue eyes.’ 

Ellie grinned and shook her head. ‘I would never dare. Besides the stuff you shoved down your throat when we were travelling together was far more dangerous than anything here.’ 

‘Do you want salt and vinegar on these?’ The woman called over to them, holding a salt shaker over the pile of chips in front of her.

‘Yes please.’ Ellie said, reaching over to pass her some money. Lambert caught her wrist and turned it to examine the change in her outstretched palm.

‘Where did you get this?’ 

Yanking her hand free, she gave the pound coins to the woman who was giving Lambert an odd look. 

‘Aliya gave it to me.’ When he didn’t look enlightened, she sighed heavily. ‘The one who gave us these clothes.’ 

Realisation dawned on his face.’ Oh, the dem-‘ Ellie clapped a hand over his mouth as the woman returned with their food. 

‘Here you are.’ She said, her voice uncertain as she surveyed the weird couple. 

‘Thanks.’ Ellie replied, accepting the paper parcels and tucking them under one arm. Then, still with her hand fixed to the witcher’s face, she steered them out of the shop and back onto the street. 

The party goers had gone by now, so she tentatively removed her hand once the door had swung shut behind them. ‘Watch what you say in front of them. They might think you’re crazy, or worse, telling the truth. I’ve already got enough shit to deal with, without a mass panic.’

‘Sorry.’ He said, rolling his eyes as if he wasn’t sorry at all. ‘I’m just used to every peasants and Lord knowing about the horrors that live among them. Not this cloak and dagger nonsense.’

‘Evidently.’ She huffed, shoving his food at him. ‘Come on, follow me.’ 

She led him through several more streets until they came out in a large open square surrounded by closed shops and restaurants. In the centre was a fountain enclosed in bushes and beds of flowers. A small oasis of green in a concrete and stone world. She made a beeline for the fountain and one of the benches that sat around it. Parking herself she patted the space beside her, and began unwrapping her chips.

Lambert sat next to her, his eyes darting around Leicester square in quiet awe. ‘You sure do like your lights here. Lit up like Oxenfurt at Imbaelk.’

‘I’d never noticed before.’ Ellie mused, putting a chip in her mouth. She shut her eyes momentarily as the familiar and comforting taste washed over her tongue. When she opened them again she saw him watching her, his eyes trained intensely on her face. A hot flush crept up her neck and she averted her gaze. ‘People are scared of the dark I guess.’

‘In a world where they don’t know what’s lurking in it?’ Lambert said incredulously.

‘In a way that probably makes it worse.’ She saw him nod imperceptibly in her peripheral, then he began to slowly open his own food.

They lapsed into silence as the witcher tentatively ate. The faintest tint of grey light was starting to leak into the flat black sky above, and Ellie could hear the city begin to wake up. She glanced back at her companion and choked down a laugh as she caught him with half a fish hanging out of his mouth. 

‘How’s the food?’ She asked, doing her best to control the warble in it. 

Lambert finished his mouthful in serval enthusiastic chews. ‘Really _fucking_ good. Whoever thought of frying fish and potatoes like this was a scholar and a hero.’

‘Told you.’ She said smugly. 

‘Sure…would be better with an ale though.’ He muttered, cramming another handful of chips into his mouth. 

‘Everything’s better with ale with you.’ Ellie countered. He polished off his fish supper in record time, chasing the scraps around the crumpled paper then throwing a disappointed look at his empty lap when they had gone too. Glancing once more at the sky, Ellie could now see it was a pale robin egg blue, a few high floating clouds were edged with pink and orange. 

‘Think we’d better rest before going to find Enoch.’ She mused. When she was met with silence she looked over at the witcher. He was staring at the sky too, a small furrow on his brow. 

‘The sky looks the same here.’ He said, his voice faraway. She could see the tell-tale signs of his exhaustion now and she hopped up putting their empty wrappers in the bin. 

‘Let’s get you somewhere to sleep.’ He lowered his gaze from the dawn sky to her, and her gut clenched at the look in his eyes.

‘Just sleep?’ The suggestion in his tone sent a thrill through her, and it was only then she realised how tense she was. The stress of the last day and the transition between worlds had taken its toll on both of them. Swivelling her head, she orientated herself and took his hand quickly.

‘We’ll see.’ She said and began towing him behind her again. 

* * *

The hotel was cheap and rundown, but it had a bed and it was near the sanctuary if they needed to make a quick escape. Almost as soon as they were through the door Lambert caged her against the wall, his hands planted on either side of head.

‘Aren’t you tired?’ Ellie asked, fumbling with the lock on the door as his eyes burned into her. 

‘Not enough to stop.’ He replied huskily. Before she could protest anymore he silenced her with his mouth, and pretty soon she forgot why she’d been trying to protest in the first place. She could feel the tension leaving her even as he ran his hands through her hair and sent a jolt of electricity up her spine. She answered by gripping his leather jacket and forcefully pushing it off his shoulders. Understanding what she wanted, he released his hold on her and shrugged the rest of the way out of it, placing it on the floor.

The careful way he laid the jacket down made her hesitate in confusion. Lambert wasn’t usually one for being considered when it came to the heat of the moment. As she was mulling over his sudden change of habit, he stepped forwards and continued kissing her into distraction. Slowly they made their way towards the bed, a cramped queen size affair as if they cared at all right now, and Ellie’s hands found their way to the hem of his shirt. 

Pulling it free from his jeans she pushed it up, exposing his abdomen. The pale skin littered with his collection of scars shivered slightly as she ran a hand up to his chest. This time he ripped the garment over his head and flung it in a crumpled mess to the corner of the room. If she were thinking straight she might have questioned him on it, she might have checked his jacket to see what had made him place it down so carefully, she might have found the thing hidden in the inner lining; but instead she could only concentrate on him.

They fell backwards onto the bed, Ellie on top, releasing a cacophony of squeaks and groans from the old springs. Lambert paused to press a hand experimentally on the mattress. ‘I could get used to this world. Even the beds are better.’ 

Ellie was too busy unbuckling his jeans to counter his statement, and by the time she had got them off he had forgotten about the bed and was dealing with her own clothes. Even with the unfamiliar modern fastenings he managed to undress her impressively fast. As she sat above him, straddling his waist, he stared up at her with dark amber eyes. A moment of silent tension settled between them as his expression became serious and he took her wrist in a gentle but firm grip. She could feel her stomach roiling as he just looked at her, his eyes fixed to her face. Then he brought her hand to his face and placed a featherlight kiss on the brand burnt into her skin, right over where her pulse should be.

‘Don’t you _ever_ try to run from me again.’ He said in a low voice. The bass of it vibrating through her thighs, the weight of his words resonating in her chest.

She opened her mouth, as if to answer, but the words got stuck in her throat. Mercifully Lambert wasn’t in the mood for anymore talking, and in one deft movement he flipped them both over and pressed his bare skin against her own. Ellie was quite happy to forget the world for a little while and lose herself in the feel of his mouth and hands on her.

* * *

_It was a cemetery. She knew it was a cemetery because rows and rows of headstones lined the path she was walking down. It was dark above her, but it didn’t feel like night, and it was foggy but the air didn’t feel cold._

_She knew she had to meet someone here, it was a feeling of certainty in her gut that kept pulling her forward, but she didn’t know who that someone was and more importantly, she didn’t recall how she’d got here. The hotel room and Lambert had been the last thing she remembered, then she had been stood in front of the wrought iron gates with a pressing need to enter._

_Moving through the fog she looked around her. She was alone. No footsteps behind her, no scent to indicate there was anyone but her and the dead nearby. Where was Lambert? Had she left him in the hotel? Was he back at the sanctuary? Had they gone there and met Enoch? Is that who she was meant to meet? Or was it Hester?_

_Yes, that must be it. It was Hester for certain. Only someone as shifty as him would ask her to meet in a cemetery. And yet…there was a wrongness to that thought, as if it didn’t fit the puzzle she was forming in her head._

_She had no idea how long she had been walking. All the headstones looked the same, there were no defining landmarks, no statues or trees to mark she was at a different point. Only slabs of granite and endless fog. Suddenly she felt a presence with her, but it wasn’t one she recognised. Not the comforting warmth of Lambert, nor the familiar mass of Enoch, not even the creepy tingle signalling it was Hester or another demon. This felt dark and intangible, like a shadow. Not evil per se, just not_ there _. Like a ghost._

_Her feet kept moving forward despite this sudden change in atmosphere, it still felt right. However, the further on she walked the more she felt the shadow around her. The light didn’t change and the fog didn’t clear but she could feel eyes watching her. Sometimes from behind, sometimes from just off the path but always there. Her instincts told her to stop and pinpoint where it was coming from, but the minute she tried to prevent her feet from moving she realised she had no control over them. In fact, instead of stopping they began to speed up so she was moving at a brisk walk. The more she tried to stop herself the faster she went, until she was sprinting through the fog, the headstones a dark blur in her periphery._

_She was about to panic when she recognised what this felt like. It was nearly identical to the ritual Triss and Yen had performed on her in Kaer Morhen. Only they weren’t here. So, who was it?_

_A figure appeared in the fog in front of her. A blot of ink on the milky white haze. It looked vaguely human shaped and grew at an alarming rate as Ellie continued to sprint towards it. A horrible thought entered her mind. Could it be O’Dimm? This was completely in the remits of his power; higher demons were dangerous, and mercifully rare thank Purgatory._

_She attempted one last time to resist the compulsion to move, she wouldn’t let him take her without a fight at the very least. Although she wasn’t sure what she could do against him considering her current predicament. Nevertheless, she gritted her teeth and braced herself as she reached the shadow figure, their face still obscured by the fog._

_Her whole body came to an abrupt stop making her bones rattled uncomfortably. An eerie silence settled around her and she half expected her mouth to be forced shut but it opened at her command._

_‘Who are you?’ She spat. Her limbs were still disobeying her orders._

_‘An old friend.’ Said a smooth and shockingly familiar voice. Her legs and arms came free and she took a reflexively step back as the figure moved towards her. The fog parted and an old man, dressed in a black, pinstriped suit stepped into view. He smiled at Ellie, the thin moustache above his lip bending with it. His translucent hair caught the tiny bit of light there was so it seemed to glow and his bottomless black eyes creased at the corners as he took her in._

_‘Come meet me Eleanor. We have many things to discuss. You’ll know where.’ Mortimer, the mayor of Purgatory and the most powerful higher demon she knew said, in his fatherly and warm tone. But Ellie felt no warmth, only ice, creeping like a dead finger up her spine. Before she could ask him anything, the fog consumed Mortimer’s form once more and her with it, blinding and suffocating her._

She woke up with a loud gasp, jolting Lambert from his sleep beside her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello all, a thousand apologies for posting this a day later than planned. I had all good intentions of getting this finished before yesterday but I wasn't happy with it and needed one more day. I hope you understand. A bit of respite in this chapter before things kick off again, see you all soon. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, this is my first witcher story and my first story of AO3. I usually post on Fanfic under the same name if you're interested in my other stuff. I came to this site as it was the only one I could get my fix of Lambert so I thought I'd give back the love with my own story. I am cross publishing this on Fanfic as well fyi, and would greatly appreciate any feedback at all.  
> I do try and do my research but if you notice any anomalies please let me know and also please leave a comment if you enjoyed. Thanks for you time and see you again soon. :)


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